


Little Black Dress - Bilbo

by Moonrose91



Series: Multi Day Challenge Series - The Hobbit Version [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: 30 Day AU Challenge, Also married couples will not get paired with Bilbo, Also those are just possible relationships, And angsty, And possibly cracky, Because this is going to get long, But that is beside the point, Cause I don't write that, F/F, F/M, Gen, Just ask, M/M, Omitting incest, Some others may pop up, Unless I write a threesome, Warnings in Chapter Summary, and fluffy, okay they'll happen at least once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:06:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 73,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 30 Day AU Challenge, with Bilbo as the main character.</p><p>Meaning that all of these Hobbit AUs are going to be focused on Bilbo, with the other characters making an appearance.</p><p>Part 1 of ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fantasy (Gen, Teen)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elluvias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elluvias/gifts), [Syxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syxx/gifts).



> I have edited it so that the Rating will be in the Chapters as well; realize I do cautious rating and my Explicit might just be because I went so red I made the room light up or it refers to things that would be Explicit. I don't think any are going to be getting that high though.
> 
> Done for [this 30 Day Challenge](http://stronger-then-you-seem.tumblr.com/post/32628381041/30-day-au-challenge).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are 13 Dwarves who have been exiled for supposed treason by a mad King, and a Hobbit that they really don't get how he got there, but is with them anyway (and he's helpful). Travelling through the Wild as they are, there comes a time when Oin the Healer needs to make more bandages. Too bad Kili, the last of the "Unicorn Bait" unBaited himself in the last village and they are without the ability to get willingly given Unicorn Hair without "Bait" to ask.
> 
> Right?
> 
> ((This part is mix of serious and crack.))
> 
> Vague to not so vague mention of sex mentioned multiple times.

Bilbo had long since learned not to ask the Dwarves he had been picked up by (mad rush to fight against Goblins, getting caught up in the flow, accidentally saving the leader, this all lead to him being stuck with them and them with him)  _anything_ whenever one began to mutter angrily over something.

It usually led to Thorin (said leader he had accidentally saved) scoffing at him, or one of the Dwarves snapping at him or...

The list went on for a while, in fact, but Bilbo didn't like being talked down to or anything of the sort, so he just waited it out, even if Bofur was always nice enough to explain why Bilbo was getting snapped at _this_ _time_ , once everyone was asleep. It was how he learned that every Dwarf here had been exiled by their mad King for supposed treason and were actively searching for a cure for the madness to give to their inside contact so they could come home.

Where  _home_ was, Bilbo did not know, but he did know that the cure they were searching for would be hard to find.

Phoenixes didn’t _give_ their tears to just  _anybody_ and Unicorns didn't like to willingly let their horn be filed, gently, though they did need it, but Hobbits didn't exactly keep the shavings around to sell.

Why would they, when their entire freedom hinged on no one knowing how unicorns came to them for aid and to aid the Hobbits in turn?

Instead,he just watched Óin dig through his bag, as if he was unable to find something he needed, while Dwalin focused on stemming the blood from Thorin’s sword arm. “Did anyone see any horse sized unicorn tracks?” Óin suddenly asked and Bilbo carefully kept his face neutral until Bofur handed him his bowl of stew, giving quiet thanks as Bifur muttered in Dwarvish.

“Two miles west? Well, we can make that. Come along Kíli,” Óin stated as he got to his feet.

“I'm not eligible to go into the woods and wait for a unicorn so you can ask it for its hair Oin!” Kíli protested, all the Dwarves missing Bilbo’s suddenly release of tension.

“Mahal damn it Kíli! You were the last one Óin had easy access to!” Fíli snapped and Kíli scowled at him.

“I was tired of being used as Bait! The unicorns kept laughing at me, I am sure of it!” Kíli protested.

“We’ll just have to do with normal remedies, Óin. It isn’t like there is a virgin close by for us to ask, especially since asking for a virgin is just like asking to be run through,” Thorin stated, and Bilbo began to hunch over his bowl, aware of the heat that crossed his cheeks as he blushed.

While, yes, any Hobbit could “call a Unicorn”, a virgin Hobbit was enough to have the unicorns curious enough to come out in full force. On top of that, they were also obsessed with playing “the greatest prank of the Age” which was how the whole virgin thing started anyway, but they didn’t want to have to be “cruel” to non-virgins, so they just stayed in hiding if one wasn’t a virgin or Hobbit.

Really, Bilbo thought this whole thing could be avoided if they just grew up, but no.

No, they had to heap embarrassment onto Bilbo’s shoulders, even when they weren’t around.

The goat-sized…

Bilbo was knocked out of his thoughts by Bofur.

“Bilbo, are ya all right? Yer lookin’ a mite…no. Yes?” Bofur asked and almost seemed gleeful when Bilbo hunched in on himself in reflex and flushed more.

“No, oh…yes! Óin, don’t worry, we got Unicorn Bait!” Bofur exclaimed and Bilbo hissed at Bofur to shut up, which only had all the Dwarves focusing on him like wolves on a starving deer.

“Mister Boggins, you’re a virgin?” Kíli asked hopefully and Bilbo flushed redder, even as he hissed, “Shut up!” again

“You are!” Kíli crowed before he was smacked upside the head by Fíli.

“Enough! No teasing him about it, or he’ll pull a you and get unBaited in the next village!” Fíli hissed, even as Kíli whined.

“Well, come along lad. We’ve got two miles to walk,” Óin stated and Bilbo sighed even as he stood, shouldering his small bag, and followed after Óin.

* * *

Bilbo sighed as he settled at the base of a tree, waiting patiently for an answer to the Call.

Hobbits Called naturally, without needing to think about it.

It was just the way they were, and the very thing that Unicorns loved to investigate thoroughly.

So, he really wasn’t surprised when a few minutes after settling at the base of the tree, a tall, for Bilbo fine boned, long-legged, long-bodied, and lion-tailed white Unicorn trotted out of the forest, looking as if he were made of moonbeams and mist.

“Hello,” Bilbo greeted warmly as the unicorn came up to where Bilbo was sitting.

He didn’t hesitate to reach into his bag and pull out an apple. The unicorn, lead stallion of the nearby glory most likely, immediately took it, his long horn nearly scraping the bark as he did so and Bilbo made a noise of distress before he reached up to gently touch the horn. “You should really get that looked at,” he murmured softly, even as more began to walk out, ignoring Óin, omitting one of the black foals with a nob on the forehead instead of a horn that rushed right up to Óin before racing back to his mother’s side.

Soon Bilbo’s bag was empty of apples and he resisted the urge to file down a few of the horns, at least in Óin’s presence.

Instead, he quietly told the unicorns where he was staying and offered to file the horns down for them, like nature filed their hooves down. They agreed readily, some unable to lower their heads to graze anymore without fear of snapping their horns, which was painful, not to mention dangerous.

Bilbo sighed softly and then looked over at Óin, who was staring at the entire glory of unicorns that surrounded Bilbo. “You can collect their hair now. They like you,” Bilbo offered, smiling at the way one of the mares nuzzled Bilbo’s hair right before her foal stepped right into Bilbo’s space and snorted into Bilbo’s face.

He laughed even as he shoved the foal, carefully, away from him while Óin began to work on getting hair from their manes, carefully curling the hair around spools until he had filled all the ones that he had brought with him, the Unicorns obviously surprised by how Óin was.

Bilbo was as well and he smiled as the lead stallion shifted so he could lay down with his head in Bilbo’s lap.

“You go ahead Óin. I’ll be a bit, I think,” Bilbo offered.

Óin, however, frowned and shook his head. “I can’t do that. Besides, travelling alone is dangerous,” he stated and Bilbo sighed before he tried to get the unicorn off his lap, while Óin chuckled.

“However, I can start over here on the bandages and you can work on easing them off you,” Óin stated and Bilbo nodded.

When Óin was fully focused, he whispered to the Unicorns about the mad King and they agreed to let their horn shavings be used. With that, Bilbo began to work on shaving the Unicorns’ horns down to a proper length one at a time while the rest of the Unicorns kept up enough racket to cover the sound.

When Bilbo was nearly done, he was struck with a wonderfully awful idea and leaned over to carefully whisper the plan into the head mare’s ear.

The squeal startled Óin from his work and when he looked up, it was to see Bilbo laughing while the mare rolled onto her back and out of his lap.

* * *

Being woken the next morning by Kíli’s _shriek_ was well worth the sight of the Glory of Unicorns without foals nuzzling and annoying the entire Company of Dwarves with nuzzles and nudges, despite the growing protests from all (most especially Kíli) that they weren't virgins.

When they congregated around Thorin, however, Bilbo could no longer hold his laughter, especially as Thorin began to protest them congregating around him as much as they did.

Not one of the Dwarves suspected that, at the bottom of Bilbo’s bag, a locked box of the first ingredient needed for the medicine to cure their King sat next to an empty vial meant for the second.


	2. Highschool (Human AU & Bilbo/Bofur, Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New school, new start, at least that's what his mother always said.
> 
> Bilbo just thinks he's going to spend the next four years as the punchline to everyone's joke.
> 
> Again.
> 
> (Warnings: Bullying, Death, and Severe Depression that leads to shutting down mentally and eventual leaving of child with other guardians so person in depression doesn't neglect said child. Also, Hypothermia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this is me making up for writing something humorous last chapter.
> 
> Luckily it will get better "faster", as it were.

Bilbo Baggins loved books.

This was an undeniable fact that even his most distant of Took cousins knew.

It also made him the punchline of every joke of every Took cousin.

He hadn't always been that way, hadn't always been so absorbed in the books and tales within them that he could disappear for  _hours_ in them and come up later, confused and sluggish, wondering where the world had gone, but...

He had always  _loved_ books and loving something that others saw as a chore had him labeled since early childhood.

At first, he had tried to reach out to people, tried to make friends, only to get his hand slapped away every time until he just stopped.

Until he retreated into his books and refused to come out. He hunched further and further into them until he was refused to acknowledge the world around him, going on adventures only in his head after letting his feet take him on an adventure to a secluded place with only a cell phone to reach the outside world.

More than once he had come out of his books to discover various wildlife had drifted into his secret places, but he never reached out to them.

They always came back, anyway, and Bilbo could honestly say that the wildlife were the closest things he had to flesh and blood friends in the world, besides his parents.

And if anyone knew that his parents were his best friends, the teasing would get much, much, worse.

*~*~*

It was the beginning of eighth grade when his father died.

Someone wasn’t paying attention and the end result was that Bilbo lost his father and watched as his mother fell into a depression that no one, not even Bilbo, could get her to come out of.

In fact, Bilbo only seemed to make it worse.

And somehow, someway, her old friend, Gandalf Istari, heard about it all and appeared out of nowhere, much like he always had.

He stood by her at the funeral as she stared blank-eyed and stone faced at the lowering of the coffin, while Bilbo sobbed, realizing that he lost both parents even though one still stood beside him.

Gandalf then ushered them home and to the after-funeral wake-like thing, where people drifted through with condolences and tried to encourage them to eat.

The entire time, Bilbo longed for a book.

It was long, agonizing, hours before everyone left, omitting Gandalf.

Gandalf who made sure he had dinner and got him settled in bed before focusing on Bilbo’s mother.

Of course Bilbo didn’t stay, instead creeping out to hover out of sight at the top of the stairs, listening in to Gandalf’s gentle words.

They told her the truth with the gentle wisdom that came with personal experience and Bilbo did not want to know who Gandalf had lost to be so focused on not losing his mother when she suddenly began to sob.

They were high-pitched keening things, near wails, and through it all, Bilbo could only understand one thing that twisted his heart in his chest before yanking it out through his throat.

“How can I look at him knowing he’s exactly like Bungo?”

Bilbo returned to his room after that.

*~*~*

Belladonna Baggins nee Took left Bilbo with Gandalf and Gandalf’s younger brother, Radagast in the summer before ninth grade, officially signing over Guardianship and went on an adventure.

Never once did she even _look_ at Bilbo, if she was in the same room as him, since his father’s death, resulting in Bilbo merely hiding away in his room with his books, and Gandalf’s gentle, “She will come back, Bilbo, I promise,” did nothing to comfort him, especially with the knowledge that it was he who had driven her away in the first place.

Instead, he moved out of his childhood home and into the Istari household to learn that there was an older brother (Saruman) and two cousins who seemed to otherwise be occupied and Bilbo never really did catch their names.

And with the move, Bilbo found himself wondering if he would ever heal from his own grief.

*~*~*

Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh as his book was snatched out of his hands by one of the three older, bigger, and far stronger teens that “ruled the school” for the fifth time since school started a month ago.

As sport stars, they got away with too much, in Bilbo’s opinion, though he never shared it as it was never asked for.

“Whatchya readin’ today pipsqueak?” the oldest, Bill, asked while Bilbo wondered if he would ever grow taller than his 4’8” he had now.

Probably not, as his mother insisted he looked exactly like his father (though he only knew that due to his mother admitting she could not look at her own son to Gandalf for that reason), and his father had been a short man compared to his mother’s grand height of 6’.

Time would tell, however, especially as Bilbo was still only 13 (though his fourteenth birthday was coming up that weekend) and in the meantime, he focused on the three much taller teens, all of whom seemed like they still had some growing to do. “I believe you have eyes and the ability to read, so I am sure you can see for yourself. Unless I am overestimating your literacy skills,” Bilbo sassed, knowing it would get him into trouble with them.

“Wot did you just say?” Bert snarled, attempting to grab Bilbo, but his short, stout, frame gave him an unexpected advantage to duck around Bert’s reaching, grasping, hand.

Unfortunately, he ran straight into Tom, who grabbed him tight.

Bilbo hissed and squirmed, fully expecting to get smacked or dropped, when an unfamiliar voice, tinted with an Irish brogue, said, “Why don’t ye pick on somebody yer own size?”

Bilbo looked over and wondered what this stranger considered ‘own size’, considering the other teen, with a soul patch and a funny hat was a good four inches shorter than the three sport stars, at least.

He was taller than Bilbo, however, though that meant little as Bilbo could count on one hand how many people were shorter than him in the school and still have fingers left over.

“That you then?” Bert snapped, but before Bofur could ask, Gandalf’s rumbling voice of, “What is going on here?” rumbled through the halls.

Bilbo was immediately dropped, along with his book, and the larger teens scampered, leaving the kid with the accent, Bilbo, and Gandalf alone in the quickly being deserted hallway.

“Are you all right Bilbo my boy?” Gandalf asked as he helped Bilbo stand up.

Bilbo murmured out his positive answers, ducking down to collect his book, only to find it right in front of his nose as the behatted teen held it out to him. “Here ya are. Some pages are bent, but otherwise good as new,” he stated cheerfully and Bilbo flushed.

“Thank you,” he stuttered out and carefully folded the book into his arms, as it were.

The other teen then smiled and said, “My name’s Bofur Blackwood.”

Bilbo hesitated before he answered, “Bilbo Baggins.”

Bofur beamed and they stood up normally.

Gandalf, still there, smiled and gave Bilbo his backpack before leaving, which caused Bilbo to flush anew, realizing he had left the bag in Gandalf’s car when he got out, nose in his book.

“Well…nice to meet ya Bilbo,” Bofur stated and seemed to hesitate before he smiled again.

Bilbo clutched tighter to his book and waited, while Bofur’s smile dimmed a bit. “Um…I was wonderin’, since we have first period together, if you would mind walking together? To class, I mean, before the warnin’ bell rings,” Bofur questioned and Bilbo flushed before he nodded, then shook his head, and nodded again, before he ducked his head down to hide his face behind his book.

“No…no, wouldn’t mind, not at all,” Bilbo mumbled and suddenly an arm was thrown over his shoulders.

“Great! Also, _Moby Dick_?” Bofur questioned.

“It’s a classic!” Bilbo protested even as Bofur chuckled good-naturedly.

*~*~*

As it turned out, Bilbo shared quite a few classes with Bofur and those he didn’t (History, Foreign Language – French), Bofur was close enough to walk with him part of the way.

It was…nice that someone was going out of their way to hang out with Bilbo, but he couldn’t help but wonder what the other’s motives were.

*~*~*

On Saturday, a package arrived for Bilbo from London.

Inside was a carefully packed wooden carving of a team of four horses pulling a carriage.

Bilbo put it up in his room and spent the rest of the day with Radagast’s rabbits.

*~*~*

A week passed in this odd…thing between Bilbo and Bofur. There were no group projects, so Bilbo was left wondering what Bofur’s plan was.

It was still nice, however, and so Bilbo didn’t press for an explanation, though most of the time Bofur ended up being accidentally ignored in favor of a book.

So Bilbo was a little surprised when Bofur said, “Do you want to go to the movies Friday?”

Bilbo blinked up at him in surprise. “What?”

“Some of ‘the Company’ are headin’ to the movies. Was just wondering if you wanted to come. With me,” Bofur explained and Bilbo’s fingers clutched at the book before his head tilted to the side.

“What movie?” he inquired and Bofur seemed almost relieved.

“That new Sci-fi adventure thing. It was the one voted on at least,” Bofur answered, and Bilbo nodded, slowly.

“Sounds…um…nice. I would like to,” Bilbo answered quietly and Bofur practically beamed.

*~*~*

The “Company” was an odd assortment of middle-schoolers to college goers, one such college attendee (Thorin) recognizable as one Bilbo saw once a week at the cemetery, the Baggins family plot was next to the Durin family plot, both fenced slightly within the large cemetery to honor the founding members of the large, sprawling, technical-city.

Neither acknowledged the other, however, and instead Thorin divvied up who would stand in the line for the popcorn and soda, thus collecting money, and who would save their seats, all with military precision, which made perfect sense as Bilbo believed Thorin had actually joined one of the military branches, though which one he did not know.

In the end, Bofur, Bombur (Bofur’s little brother), and Bilbo were to get the soda and popcorn, with Dwalin, Thorin’s best friend, who had the money.

The rest went to go save the seats.

*~*~*

The plot was enjoyable, if obvious, and the cinematography was catching, though Bilbo could have done without all the lens flares. “Did you like it?” Bofur asked as they left, Bilbo noticing Gandalf was waiting for him in the parking lot, as promised.

“Yes. Though I could have done with the lens flares…and I would have liked to know how they all met, but otherwise it was very good,” Bilbo answered and he blinked when he felt the stares, before he focused on the shocked looks of those surrounding him.

“What?” he asked.

“You…what…you don’t know what _Star Trek_ is?” Fili asked, sounding like his world had been utterly destroyed.

Bilbo just blinked in confusion before he looked at Bofur, who looked equally surprised. “Um…is it a TV show?” he asked softly and winced when there were sputtering over that.

“Did…I miss something?” Bilbo asked Bofur quietly.

“Well, you are talkin’ to a bunch of Trekkies. I’ll explain on Monday, okay? Yer Dad’s waitin’,” Bofur stated and Bilbo hunched down slightly.

“He’s not my dad. He’s Gandalf, my guardian,” Bilbo answered quickly, already feeling himself shutting down, and walked away without saying ‘good-bye’ while ignoring the voice that sounded like his father berating him for his rudeness.

Later, he curled up in the middle of his bed and wondered what Monday would bring.

*~*~*

“I’m sorry. About Friday,” Bofur offered Monday morning, once he had tracked Bilbo down to the library.

“It’s all right. It isn’t like you knew,” Bilbo responded softly, slipping the bookmark, one his father had made him, into place before shutting the book.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bofur asked.

“No,” Bilbo responded quietly, thinking on how his mother couldn’t look at him with his father in the ground.

“Okay. Now, I promised to explain Star Trek to you,” Bofur stated and suddenly a huge binder was dropped in front of Bilbo.

“Bombur helped,” Bofur added and Bilbo stared at the binder that was practically level.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The entire history of a cult classic, including the reboot, which is two movies that take place in an AU,” Bofur explained.

“What’s an…AU?” Bilbo questioned and Bofur chuckled.

“Oh, Bilbo, the things I could teach you,” Bofur stated.

Bilbo flushed when Bofur wiggled his eyebrows, though why Bilbo would _never_ be able to explain.

*~*~*

Time passed and Bilbo had begun to not only like Bofur hanging out with him, but looked forward to it.

The idea of spending time with Bofur filled him with warmth and he was happy to tell Bofur what he was reading, surprising Bofur with some of his choices.

(“You read steampunk?” was _always_ going to be one of Bilbo’s more favorite conversations.)

But sometimes, Bofur would ask things that confused Bilbo.

(“Are you doing anything Sunday?” “Do you want to go out for lunch this Saturday?” “What is your favorite movie genre?”)

Any questions that involved being free answered with a ‘no’ had Bofur almost drooping. Saying he couldn’t (Saturday lunch was the Istari brothers weekly meet up and Bilbo was to attend and even though Saruman was a bit terrifying, he was quite all right, in the end, and was the one to actually ask if Bilbo would feel more comfortable with them if he called them ‘Uncle’, not Gandalf, which made sense as Saruman _really_ seemed to be the only one who actually had a train of thought more in line with the average person) had Bofur sighing and mumbling something Bilbo couldn’t understand.

And the answer of a shrug had Bofur inviting Bilbo to every movie night possible, the only thing Bilbo could go to without fail.

And it was always in a group.

But after a few times of this, even _this_ started to get Bofur down, leaving Bilbo confused and itching to dive back into a book, where everything made sense.

Eventually.

As it was, Bilbo was left to flounder before he remembered Christmas.

It was a few months away, but with the knowledge Bofur loved steampunk and had an affection for hats well…

It was a good thing Saruman was a good craftsman.

*~*~*

“Steampunk you say?” Saruman asked, leaning over the design Bilbo had sketched out.

“Yeah. For my friend, Bofur,” Bilbo explained softly and Saruman nodded.

“I will do the more delicate work, but there is a store Radagast goes to that will have a top hat, and it will come with a hat box. Not too expensive. Do you want the cogs to move?” Saruman asked, even as Bilbo nodded.

“On wind-up,” Bilbo explained and Saruman nodded.

“Go get the top hat and we’ll work out how to do this,” he stated, looking quite interested in the project.

Bilbo could not be more relieved.

*~*~*

Bilbo clutches the hatbox to him throughout the day like it is a book, terrified that if he puts it down for one minute, it will be destroyed.

The day is short, so mostly they don’t do much and Bofur, oddly enough, keeps away from Bilbo, leaving Bilbo wondering if he did something wrong, before deciding he must have when he calls Bofur’s name, only for the other teen to speed up and away from him.

So, for the last class of the day, right before the bell rings, he makes his way over to Bofur, somehow manages to corner him, and shoves the hatbox into Bofur’s arms.

He mumbles a “Merry Christmas” followed shortly be a, “Sorry I’ve bothered you,” and then he’s gone at the ringing of the bell, running as fast as he can.

He says nothing about the present to Gandalf and, when Saruman asks if Bofur liked it, Bilbo curls up tighter with his book.

Saruman, wisely, leaves it be.

*~*~*

On the day after Christmas, Bilbo receives a package from Russia.

It is a scaled replica of the Tzar’s palace.

It joins the wooden horses pulling the carriage on the top of Bilbo’s dresser to frame the picture of himself, at 12, with his mother and father.

It is the last picture with Belladonna Baggins smiling.

*~*~*

The return to school does not return the formerly easy…something between Bilbo and Bofur. It has been reduced to stiff interactions, leaving Bilbo cold and adrift, like a ship cut from its mooring.

He tries to ask about the hat, but finds the words stick in his throat while outside the world finally decides it is winter and the temperature plummets.

Bilbo tries to open conversations like Bofur had, to get that back, but he is rebuffed sharply, leaving Bilbo fumbling and finally falling silent and into his books.

He doesn’t get what he did wrong, but maybe it was something else, like how his father’s death triggered his mother’s inability to look at him.

So he’s surprised when he’s cornered by a larger senior who looks like he could be related to Bofur and asked, “What are your intentions towards my cousin?”

Bilbo flounders at the question before he manages to stutter out his question.

“In…intentions?”

The senior nodded, hair slightly wild and slightly tamed all at once, and Bilbo hunches in to hide behind his book ( _Black Beauty_ , one of Bilbo’s childhood favorites). “Yes, your intentions,” the senior repeated and Bilbo clutched at his book.

“I…I don’t understand,” Bilbo explained softly and Bifur huffed.

“You do this to all your friends then?” the senior demanded and Bilbo hunched in more, wondering how to explain that he _was_ holding one of his friends.

That Bofur was really the only human friend he had, and that he just wanted Bofur to stop looking so angry and sad, because it _hurt_ , but while Bilbo could write beautiful words (Radagast was never one to color his words, and neither was Radagast’s friend, Beorn, and if they said so, it must be truth), he could rarely have those words come from his brain and out of his mouth.

“I…don’t…I don’t understand,” Bilbo explained and the senior frowned at him.

“You…you really _don’t_ , do you?” he asked suddenly and Bilbo just nodded in agreement, and the senior almost sat back on his heels.

“Well, what do you do with your other friends?” the senior asked.

“Um…read? I…I…Bofur’s really my only friend. I’ve never…I mean, Thorin might be sort-of my friend, but not really. We know each other is about the best I can give. And I guess Saruman is my friend, but like an older friend so…really just…just Bofur. And books,” Bilbo explained softly, hunching in on himself more with each word until he was as small as he could get without shoving himself into a corner.

He jumps when a hand touches his shoulder and he looks up into the now much gentler face of the senior. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m Bifur, by the way. Bifur Blackwood,” he introduced.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo whispered.

“I know. Look…I’m sorry. I misunderstood something,” Bifur stated and Bilbo nodded a bit.

“It’s okay,” Bilbo answered and then the warning bell rang.

Bifur left and Bilbo soon hurried to gym, wondering what that was all about.

*~*~*

It was after and he sighed as he tugged his jeans back on, once more covering the long and winding pale scar that wrapped around his leg from his ankle to just above his knee, knowing that he was lucky to still have the leg.

Quietly shutting the locker he walked out with his backpack over his shoulder.

He had walked two steps from the gym to head to lunch when a shiver made him realize that he had forgotten his jacket in his locker.

Turning around instantly, he headed back in to retrieve it when he heard one of Bofur’s friends, Nori, suddenly ask, “What do you see in him anyway?”

“See in who?” Bofur asked and Bilbo immediately perked up.

He could politely interrupt and ask Bofur if he liked the hat! It would be the _perfect_ conversation starter, one Bilbo hadn’t tried yet.

Abandoning his locker, jacket forgotten, he headed toward the voices, which were coming a row of lockers over a row, but obviously down one, as Bilbo didn’t see either of them when he looked down.

“That kid you were dragging around. Ya know, the tiny one,” Nori answered and Bilbo frowned, slowing slightly when he realized that they were talking about someone.

Maybe he should come back.

Bilbo turned on his heel but stopped dead when he heard Bofur answer, “Bilbo?”

He should go. Eavesdropping was rude and if one did it, they should not be angry by what they overhear.

However…

Bofur had returned to avoiding him, and Bilbo…Bilbo just wanted that warm feeling back.

Was that so wrong?

“Yeah, him. So…what’s going on?” Nori asked and Bilbo forced himself to move _toward_ the voices because, even though they were talking about him, he’d never get the chance to talk to Bofur again, most likely.

He’d apologize for interrupting, maybe be pretending to be reading his book, pretend he hadn’t…

“Nothing,” Bofur hissed.

“Really? I thought you would’ve gotten all the essay help out of him by now,” Nori stated and Bilbo stilled, just out of sight of the pair.

“Nah. Never talked about that,” Bofur answered and Bilbo hunched in on himself slightly.

Oh.

 _That’s_ what he did wrong.

Didn’t talk about schoolwork.

He barely noticed when _Black Beauty_ slid out of his arms, but he _did_ notice when it hit the ground with a solid thwack sound.

He jumped and then high-tailed it out of there, forgetting his book as tears burned in the back of his eyes.

Of course, stupid, he just wanted your help academically.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Bilbo barely noticed when he rushed off of campus, his legs unerringly taking him straight to the cemetery and his father’s grave.

*~*~*

Both Bofur and Nori jumped at the sound of something hitting the ground and they both rushed to the next row of lockers just up from them, only to find a book on the floor.

Bofur frowned as he walked forward, even as Nori called, “Hello?”

Bofur picked it up, only to recognize the bookmark peeking out of it.

“Shit,” he stated and immediately ran out, explanations on his tongue.

But no one was there.

Bilbo, it seemed, was long gone.

“Damn it,” he cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Nori asked.

“Bilbo. He overheard us,” Bofur answered.

“Shit,” Nori agreed and Bofur turned to get his bag back.

Well, he’d see Bilbo next period and explain, as well as return the book.

*~*~*

Bilbo wasn’t in the next class, or the class after.

In fact, he wasn’t in _any_ of his remaining classes, but the lack of appearance from the man with the gray hair and gray suit and the silver car told Bofur that Bilbo probably went home early, which sent a curl of guilt through his gut, especially since he had been avoiding Bilbo, unsure of what was going on with the other teen.

Offers of alone time were turned down with odd, in their way, responses (“My guardians all have Saturday lunches. It is kind-of where they all catch up with each other, and I’m included in this,” or the tactful, “I’m busy,” with no further explanation), while group things were eagerly agreed till, at first, but slowly dissolved into a hesitant, “If it’s all right.”

All in all, he kept getting odd signals from Bilbo, resulting in him thinking that Bilbo was attracted to someone in the group, but shy.

Considering how Bilbo acted when the sport stars, who now left him alone, cornered him and how he was with Bofur, at first, this theory was supported.

And while Bofur would have accepted Bilbo with another, if he was happy, Bofur was none too thrilled with the idea of becoming  known as the one who to set them up.

It wasn’t even like he was being _subtle_ , always flirting with Bilbo and teasing him, getting the other flustered, but alas, there was little Bofur could do but wait it out.

And knowing that Bilbo now knew that their friendship was based off Bofur wanting to use Bilbo’s well-known essay skills (their English teacher had praised Bilbo endlessly for his in-class essay) made Bofur want to clear things up.

That, yes, it had started out with that, but he hadn’t been expecting Bilbo to be…Bilbo.

He had been expecting a snooty, snobby, brat who would look down at Bofur, not someone who was brilliant with a sassy-sarcasm streak a mile-wide and fathos deep when he got into the swing of it, and endlessly giving and kind.

Not to mention stubborn when he was stuck on a point.

The hat hadn’t helped matters, only mudding the waters further and continuing to confuse Bofur, as it was obviously a gift for him (the card said it was for him), and obviously from Bilbo, the mumbled out apology had made no sense.

But Bilbo had obviously left for home early because of Bofur and there was  little he could do about it now but wait till tomorrow to return Bilbo’s book to him.

So he was rather surprised when a man with white hair walked up and said, “Excuse me, I am one of Bilbo’s guardians. Where is he?”

Because it had just become suddenly obvious that Bilbo had left school without _anyone’s_ knowledge except his own, and Bofur’s guilt sky-rocketed.

*~*~*

It hadn’t taken long for a search to start for Bilbo, but the ‘usual’ places were found empty and the night was closing in fast.

When Nori returned with Bilbo’s jacket, worry had only increased to the point that everyone forgot to ask _how_ Nori got it, especially when he revealed that it was in Bilbo’s locker still.

“Where would he go?” Radagast asked and Thorin suddenly stood up from where he was leaning against a wall in the Istari house, immediately drawing their attention, night having long settled in with the first snow of the new year having started around dusk.

“Has anyone checked the cemetery?” he asked.

“Why would any teen go there?” Gloin asked.

“It’s where his father is buried,” Thorin answered calmly and the world dropped out from under Bofur’s feet.

*~*~*

Bilbo was frozen to the point of constant shivering, curled up against a headstone, and frozen tear tracks on his face.

He had been rushed to the hospital immediately, but it just ran through Bofur’s head.

He had known, instinctively, that Bilbo lived with those not his parents. He had _thought_ Bilbo’s parents were dead.

It would have been kinder if both actually were.

The truth, the bare bit of it, was that Bilbo’s father died, his mother had fallen into a depression and had enough of a mind to realize she couldn’t take care of her son, so she signed over guardianship to an old family friend, who knew less about Bilbo _now_ than the Bilbo of Bilbo’s _childhood_ and Saruman was obviously the actual caretaker, not Gandalf.

Gandalf would probably be a rather good caretaker, once he stopped treating Bilbo like he had been as a child.

While waiting in the hospital waiting room after the paramedics had rushed Bilbo here, Bofur was surprised when Saruman turned to Bofur and asked, “Did you like the hat Bilbo designed for you?”

“Designed?” Bofur questioned.

“Quite. Bilbo doesn’t know how to work clockwork, or metal, really. He was able to do some of it, but I did all the clockwork. Just wind it up and away it will go. He said you liked ‘steampunk’ and wanted it to be something you would enjoy,” Saruman stated.

“He…he likes me?” Bofur asked, regretting the words instantly.

“I think so. He’s never had to deal with this before. Very talkative, our Bilbo, when he’s focused on something,” Saruman added, while Bifur nodded in agreement.

“But…he _has_ to have other friends. Ones not…me,” Bofur stated.

“You’ve met them. _Moby Dick_ is one that has always calmed Bilbo when he’s mad. _Treasure Island_ takes him away, so do the others. Old friends, new ones, poor ones, good ones, I think you’ve met ones even Bilbo has not yet. His friends were, and are, books. Or animals. Those you have not yet, but his best friends you _have_ met,” Saruman answered simply and before Bofur could say anything, a doctor was saying how Bilbo was alert and okay to see his guardians, but that he had to stay overnight.

Saruman nodded and pat Bofur’s shoulder. “He’ll see you Monday,” he stated and walked over to keep Radagast calm, as he was already wringing his hands worriedly over ‘their’ Bilbo.

Bifur just wrapped an arm around Bofur’s shoulders and tugged him to where Bifur’s parents waited for them.

And wondered how Bilbo had gotten so nice with the experiences that he had had.

*~*~*

It took time, to rebuild that friendship, even as Bilbo built friendships with more of the Company, and even people outside of the Company. He was forever shy, but put him in the right place and let the sassy-sarcasm fly, Nori and Thorin being the usual targets of his katana sharp wit.

Bofur officially asked Bilbo out to one of the dances in their junior year and Bofur is sure, even if he proposed marriage, he could not get a more enthusiastic ‘yes.’

(Ten years later, Bilbo proved him wrong.)

(Enthusiastically.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saruman is a good guy! Well, in this at least.
> 
> And he was Aule's Maiar or however you spell it, so it made sense that he was a craftsman.
> 
> Also, Bifur could talk in this because I needed him to.
> 
> For anyone wondering, Bilbo only had some minor nerve damage in the tips of his fingers and is now very sensitive to changes in temperature.
> 
> Also...17 pages on Word.
> 
> Enough said.


	3. 1950's (Bilbo/Nori, Human AU, Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo knew he what he wanted wasn't accepted.
> 
> Apparently, enough Took got into him that he went for it anyway.
> 
> (Homophobia, 1950s views on homosexuality, surprising amount of fluff besides)

Bilbo had always loved Nori, from the moment he had met him.

Well, that was a lie.

It grew into love, but he had  _always_  felt strongly for Nori. Just, at first, it was a very deep-seated rage that burned through his skin like fire and made him want to strangle the other man, especially when he kept stealing his silverware.

He was worse than Lobelia.

Thorin had jokingly said it was Nori's way of flirting, which had Bilbo flushing dramatically before renewing his snarling at Nori to return what he had stolen.

That had been at 20, and five years later, Bilbo felt it grow into something else. Turn and twist till the arguments were, really, more like flirting, and stealing the silverware was a reason to come back later, trying to extract forbidden kisses for their return.

At 25, Nori was able to get them quite easily, despite the way Bilbo's heart thrummed under his skin, knowing the only thing that kept nosy neighbors from seeing were curtains and curtains could have gaps.

At 25, it was almost a game, but not.

Bilbo knew it was something more, but he refused to see, not when it would cost him everything.

29 was when Bilbo realized that he was in love with Nori Remington.

If Nori was a woman, that would be an entirely different story. A few sniffs here and there about her attire, maybe, or maybe just the way she was, in general, but Nori wasn't.

Nori was male, very much so, and deadly and Bilbo  _wanted_  so much it hurt.

But Bilbo knew Nori would never be Bilbo's secret and, in all honesty, Bilbo didn't want Nori to be a secret either.

So, on one of the many nights when Nori has returned after Frodo is away in bed to extract a kiss for something that will be gone, again, in the morning when Nori comes over, officially, for breakfast, Bilbo is surprised when Nori asks, "Do you love me?"

"What?"

"Do you love me?" Nori repeated.

He was in Bilbo's space, but he always was. What was at first uncomfortable for their friends became acceptance, especially since it was always Nori's doing with Bilbo's long-suffering grumbling while he continued on his tasks, and  _everyone_  knew that Nori was Nori and would not settle for anything but getting under people's skins.

"If I say yes?" Bilbo asked.

"Would explain a lot. But you haven't answered the question," Nori stated.

Bilbo  _knows_  he should be shoving Nori out of his space, panicking, maybe making the remarks all made in face of such accusations, or questions.

He should.

But instead he gives Nori the key to his destruction in one word. "Yes," he answered and is taken back when Nori suddenly pulls him in for a kiss, harsh, demanding, and filled with  _something_ , love perhaps, but he's kissing back and clutching to Nori and then they are parting.

"Thank Mahal. Love you too. Always prefered shadows anyway," Nori answered and kissed Bilbo again before the younger could get a word in edge wise.

Bilbo is 29 and Nori is 34 in 1953 when they start a secret relationship that could take everything from them.

(Bilbo is 69 and Nori is 74 in 1993 when Nori kisses him in public for the first time, broadcasting their relationship for all to see. The only warning Bilbo got was a whispered, "Finally.")


	4. Superheroes (Bilbo/Ori, Human-Meta AU, Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problem with being an ex-international cat-burglar who often crossed mental swords with the older brother of your lover is the fact that, more often than not, something happens to reveal yourself to said lover, and older brother, to save your lover.
> 
> (Violence, Death, Head Injury, Burns)

When Bilbo was eight years old, he discovered he was a Meta with the ability to turn practically invisible in the shadows and walk straight through them.

At twelve he discovered that taking someone with him would result in them going insane, their mind fracturing from the strain.

At fourteen he discovered the thrill of stealing.

At fifteen he learned the leaving a calling card upped the fun of it, especially when the newspapers started refering to him as "Sting" in regards to the blue 'blades' he left behind.

At sixteen, he learned what it meant to cross mental swords with a superhero who had super-strength and was indestructable, from the outside at least, but never relied completely on either in a fight.

At seventeen he learned a few tricks from a thief that had only himself and no powers to lean back on.

At eighteen, he wished for boredom when a super-villain, the Golden Dragon, rose from the shadows to challenge the superhero, the Silver Knight, to a game of wits and Sting to a race against the clock.

At nineteen Sting stole his last item, for how could he top stealing the Arkenstone from Lord Smaug, proving that Smaug had stolen it from the Durin Family and in the same sweep giving proof that Smaug was the Golden Dragon?

The Silver Knight retired when the Arkenstone showed up in his living quarters within the Headquarters for the Collation of Heroes.

A simple  _Good-bye_  was etched into the "blue" blade of the knife that lay next to it.

That should have been the end.

(Bilbo should have known it wasn't.)

*~*~*

When Bilbo Baggins met Ori Rigby, it was three years after Bilbo’s retirement and they were both reaching for the same book.

Ori, who was taller than Bilbo, got it first, but he flushed with how close he got to Bilbo. Bilbo had smiled up at him, leaned further into Ori’s space before he snatched the book and had run.

It was a start and the pair bonded over a shared love of books, and Ori nearly fainted when he learned Bilbo was the author of his favorite series about an international thief that crossed borders in pursuit of a villain while avoiding getting caught by an honorable Interpol agent.

Despite what anyone would believe, it was Ori who made the first move.

Mostly because Bilbo was unsure if what he was seeing was really there, or if he was just seeing what he _wanted_ to see.

From there, it had slowly gone through the normal stages of progression.

Soft languid kisses behind the stacks, lunch in the cafeteria, learning that the overprotective big brother was an ex-superhero that Bilbo used to torment when he went over to Ori’s for dinner…

You know, the usual things.

Bilbo was unsure of what to think on that, so instead he just pretended he didn’t know about Dori’s old alter-ego, and was properly terrified by threats to remove limbs should he ever break Ori’s heart.

Ori graduated first, with his B.A. in English along with his teaching degree, and Bilbo graduated shortly after.

Ori started teaching high school the year he moved in with Bilbo.

In the same year, Bilbo finished a book series and began another.

The following year, Bilbo returned home to find a golden sword with a dragon shaped hilt stabbed into the front yard, a silver mask fluttering from it like a macabre banner.

*~*~*

“This is all my fault,” Dori stated when Bilbo called him to come over.

He had given the other man tea and he opened his closet, shoving things out as fast as he could so he could get to the back of it. “Not really,” Bilbo reassured softly as he kicked the last thing out.

“Yes…what are you doing?” Dori demanded.

“Well, I’m a packrat. Never get rid of a thing,” Bilbo explained and reached up, tugging on the hidden catch, the floor popping up even as Dori made his way over.

“What are you…” Dori began but fell silent as Bilbo opened the floor to reveal a cache of blue bladed knives.

“Still sharp,” he murmured softly as he tested the blade as he ignored the way Dori’s gaze was boring into the back of his head.

Bilbo hummed and reached around on the floor before pushing another catch to have the back of the closet slide down.

He stood up, carefully taking down the body harness that held most of his knives and other little things.

He quickly slipped knives into sheaths and other little surprises into the attached pockets before he stood up, setting everything back to normal.

“Does Ori know?” Dori asked.

“No,” Bilbo answered.

“You’ll have to tell him,” Dori stated.

“I know. I was going to, but…this happened. And this is why it isn’t your fault. It is mine. I stole the Arkenstone, I proved it was the Durin family’s, and I proved that Smaug was the Golden Dragon. And that sword is one of Smaug’s hidden treasures. So, mine. He’s just lashing out at you,” Bilbo answered and headed upstairs.

He needed to get changed into something appropriate for returning to his old ways.

*~*~*

The problem, Bilbo decided, with retiring and falling in love and not telling one’s lover about said past life was the realization that it would come out in a manner like this.

He resisted the urge to sigh as he slipped through the shadows, practically invisible while outside, Dori waited.

Smaug really was predictable, for he was a man who loved the theatrical and if he had an audience, he would never fail to perform.

“It really is too bad that your brother won’t turn over the Arkenstone. A shame, really, because you are so very pretty,” Smaug taunted and Bilbo resisted the urge to laugh as Ori glowered at Smaug.

“I face down seventeen year olds, Mister Smaug. You’re going to have to try a lot harder to scare me,” Ori spat out and Smaug threw his head back and laughed.

“Well, well, one with a spine. Normally the family members of super-heroes, or in your case _ex_ -superhero, fall over as if their spines were made of cooked noodles. And Azog has _so_ wanted to play,” Smaug stated and Bilbo felt his heart stutter in his chest.

Azog…Azog was just a mantle.

He had thought him killed by Oakenshield, but it seemed that was not the case.

Bilbo slipped through the shadows unseen and gripped one of his knives.

And then he dropped on Azog like a spider, the knife sinking into Azog’s neck and he sliced up, cutting open the vein behind the left ear. He then stood up and put himself firmly between Ori and Smaug.

Smaug raised an eyebrow, even as Ori gasped out, “Bilbo!”

“Well, well, who is this?” Smaug asked and Bilbo flipped the knife around and flicked it down, the blue of the blade catching everyone’s eye.

The three big guys in the back who hunkered out of the light were more muscle, and there were some lithe people, but his eyes were focused on Smaug, who was eyeing the blade. “Sting,” Smaug stated and Bilbo tilted his head from side to side before he nodded in agreement.

“Well Mr. Lucky Number, I think your luck has run out,” Smaug stated, shifting onto his heels just as the wall was shattered, a cloud of dust rolling across.

Bilbo didn’t hesitate to turn, cut Ori free and rushed him to where Dori waited.

“I love you,” Bilbo stated, the three muscled men turned to stone.

Ori stared at Bilbo and it was then that Bilbo realized he never said it. Just ‘me too’ or ‘I do too’, or kissed Ori.

Bilbo had just never said it.

“I…I never meant to keep secrets, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything because if I hadn’t been so damn cocky, you would be safe,” Bilbo stated, even as he heard Smaug’s roar of rage shift from human to monster.

“And you have to run and…and I can only do this and…I love you. I love you so much,” Bilbo stated and kissed Ori, long and sweet, before he shoved Ori into Dori and turned into the shadows.

*~*~*

Smaug had chosen his name well, for a shape shifter.

His dragon form was lithe and lean, snarling and snapping while he tried to grab onto Bilbo, who darted through the shadows, constantly distracting Smaug from chasing after Ori and Dori.

And then he spewed fire and it curled around his heels, burning through his suit and Bilbo thought he felt blistering. He rolled, putting out the fire, right before he ducked behind rubble and slipped through the shadows once more, Smaug snarled more.

“Come out, thief!” Smaug snarled and Bilbo slipped up to the top of the building.

He then took out his knife and threw it, the blue blade skimming across Smaug’s nose and causing him to turn on himself to stare up at Bilbo.

Bilbo hid as another spew of fire slammed into his hiding place and Bilbo shuddered at the sound of wings flapping before he took up into the air. Bilbo turned, hefting his blade to throw it at Smaug as the dragon rose above him, chest exposed to the demolished wall when an arrow bolt flew through the air, slamming into Smaug’s chest.

Smaug screamed and thrashed, his tail crashing through Bilbo’s perch, and he was falling.

And then there was darkness.

*~*~*

“Bilbo!” Ori shouted as Smaug collapsed into the rubble he created, kept from running by Dori’s grip on his torso.

The Bowman turned at that, surprised. “There was another in there?” he questioned.

“Bilbo Baggins! Didn’t you see him? He was darting around like mad in there!” Ori snapped, rage sparking across his nerves while Dori just held onto him.

“There…there was no one,” the Bowman insisted, even as Ori shook.

“His calling card,” Dori remarked dryly and Ori felt something in him snap.

Suddenly, Dori wasn’t holding onto him and instead Ori was on top of the rubble.

To his left was a human, tattered clothed, Smaug.

But right in front of him, hair matted with blood, was Bilbo. “Bilbo,” Ori breathed and knelt down next to Bilbo, balancing on the rubble, ignoring Dori’s shouts for him.

Bilbo didn’t respond and the only thing that kept Ori from panicking completely was the fact Bilbo’s chest rose and fell at a steady pace. “Dori! Over here! And we need paramedics!”

*~*~*

Bilbo woke up in the hospital, confused and feeling muzzy, darkness surrounding him. “Shh, shh, Bilbo,” Ori’s voice soothed and a hand grasped his.

“I’m here,” Ori promised and Bilbo slipped back into sleep.

*~*~*

When next he woke, he groaned as everything became obvious. The heavy bandages that wrapped around his head, the stupid beeping, the things in his veins, and, when he peeled his eyes open, the light that stabbed into his retinas.

It was when he tried to lift his hand cover his eyes that the click of metal on metal got his attention.

A few tries later and Bilbo found he was handcuffed to the bed.

Oh, of course.

“Dori, if you do not let him go, I will _never_ speak to you again!” Ori shouted and Bilbo looked over at the door to find that it was open a crack.

“He’s a _criminal_ Ori!”

“He gave everything back! If anything, it was like he tested security systems without proper authorization!”

Bilbo blinked exhaustedly and jumped out of his skin when someone cleared their throat.

He turned and found himself staring at Thorin Durin.

“You’re Sting?” he questioned.

“Yes,” Bilbo croaked out and was surprised when Thorin offered him ice chips.

“You look more like a grocer than a burglar,” Thorin remarked once Bilbo had finished the first ice chip.

“So I’ve been told.”

“But, you got the Arkenstone and returned it to me and proved that Smaug was a villain. How would you like to pay your debt off to society through community service, as it were,” Thorin answered.

“Can’t,” Bilbo stated.

“Why not?”

“My ability. If it isn’t me, it…it shatters their sanity. Learned that the hard way. You can still visit my mother in the mental hospital,” Bilbo explained and Thorin started at that.

Bilbo then looked at the ceiling, even as he heard Ori’s argument rise in volume while Dori’s became faster.

He tugged on the handcuff and listened to it clink before he settled his hand on the blanket.

He started when he felt the handcuff removed. “Breaking and entering, really. Stealing it was just to prove you could, since it was all given back, right in the place you had taken it from,” Thorin stated and left.

“Enough. He’s free to go once the hospital frees him,” Thorin stated and suddenly Ori was there, sitting next to Bilbo in a blink of an eye.

“Ori,” Bilbo breathed only to let out a gasp of surprise as Ori kissed him.

“When you’re out of that bed, I am going to hit you so hard! Saying I love you when you thought you were about to die!” Ori hissed, kissing him more.

And Bilbo didn’t care how much it hurt, he kissed back just as desperately till the heart monitor went insane.


	5. Western/Cowboys (Explicit, past Azog/Bilbo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds it ironic that, once upon a time, Hobbits warned about travelling East.
> 
> Now, they will warn about travelling West while running East, back to the Shire.
> 
> (mention of dub-con, mention of being imprisoned, abusive "ex", minor torture, death, mention of disembowelment, graphic description of hyena-like eating habits, such as breaking bones)

Bilbo steeled his shoulders as Azog, the pale Orc, walked into the general store he worked at under a Man, Barliman, and he stared unflinchingly at Azog at the doorway, despite the deep seated fear the thrummed under his skin.

Azog ruled the town Bilbo had come from. Vicious and powerful, he had worked until he could walk in the sun, though he needed to wear colored lens glasses and had to cover up more than Orcs were truly comfortable with, but he had done it.

And then he had done what no other Orc could do and took over Bilbo's hometown to the point where, when Azog had come to take the Baggins family farm due to 'payment delinquencies', Bilbo had known that Azog wanted something from them, because they were  _never_ late. The answer to Bilbo's question of, 'what do you want?' had surprised all the Hobbits.

Because Azog wanted Bilbo, though Bilbo, to this day, did not understand why.

At the time, Bilbo had thought his freedom was a small price to pay for the family farm to _stay_ the family farm.

But over time, it stopped being worth it.

When he spent more time than not, literally, chained to Azog’s bed and when his family began to leave in droves, selling the farm, throwing his choice back in his face, it hurt.

In fact, it nearly destroyed him to learn that his family, even the Tooks, left him with Azog and sold what he had turned himself over to save.

When Bilbo realized that he had no reason to stay, he had picked the shackle around his ankle and he had run.

The Men and Orcs had followed, but Bilbo had honestly never thought Azog himself would come after him.

"Bilbo! Here is where you ran off to. Going further and further west. Was my pretty little Hobbit not happy with something? Did I leave him wanting for something more?" Azog purred out, striding forward while one of the Men Azog had hired stepped up to keep Barliman from interfering.

“My freedom comes to mind,” Bilbo responded calmly, even as he let his fingers rest against the pistol that Barliman kept behind the counter.

This area was rife with bandits, mostly Men with some Elves and one band of Dwarven bandits, which still had Bilbo’s mind whirling.

Azog chuckled and reached out with his hand, the clawed appendage had lost before he had even come to Bilbo’s old home resting on the wooden counter to leave a horrendous gouge in the counter, so that he could run his claws through Bilbo’s curls in a mockery of the soothing motion his mother had once used to calm him from nightmares.

Now any touch to his hair had him whimpering and scrambling away.

But he did not flinch as Azog twisted one of Bilbo’s curls around his finger and _tugged_ , sending sparks of pain dancing across Bilbo’s scalp. “Bilbo, Bilbo, Bilbo, what have I told you about your mouth? It can do so much better than _talking_ ,” Azog stated, letting his claws drift down across Bilbo’s sensitive ear tips (and Bilbo _cursed_ the natural reaction to shiver), and along Bilbo’s jawbone and neck till he was holding Bilbo’s chin.

It was something he had done often when Bilbo had not been looking at him, to force him to look up, to look at Azog.

“Try that now and I _will_ bite,” Bilbo threatened.

When the hand on his chin twitches, Bilbo knows what is coming because, whenever he tried to turn away when Azog demanded his attention in that way, he got a backhand.

Pain explodes across his face, behind his eyeball and Bilbo hits the ground, knowing a bruise will bloom soon enough.

As it is, his eye is already swelling shut.

Bilbo tried to crawl away when Azog kicked him. He coughed, air leaving his body and snarled viciously as one of Azog’s boots, spurs attached, dug into his sternum.

The leather was too thick for Bilbo to shove through and he let out a choked sound of pain as Azog shifted his boot slightly to start digging the spur into his belly enough to hurt, but not enough to break skin.

“I think I was too kind to you, Bilbo. A shackle around the ankle that I made sure when it rubbed your skin raw went to the other ankle while the first healed, but you covered those scars, Bilbo. Maybe, I should have marked up your face, to show everyone who you belonged to, made the scars impossible to hide,” Azog snarled, even as Bilbo glared as best he could up at Azog, focusing on breathing.

He didn’t flinch when the metal claw touched his cheek while Azog’s hand went to his hair, gripping it tight. Azog shifted enough not to crush Bilbo’s sternum, but Bilbo felt the prick of the spur and knew there was going to be another scar to add to his collection.

He couldn’t stop the soft cry of pain as the metal claw carefully scratched across his forehead. “Shh, shh, my Hobbit. This will be over soon,” Azog hissed, even as Bilbo heard Barliman shout at Azog, followed by a scuffle.

Bilbo didn’t look away from Azog, not twitching even as Azog began to dance threatening around Bilbo’s eye with the metal claw before he sliced along Bilbo’s cheekbone, curling to follow the jawbone.

Bilbo felt the tears well up unwillingly, and Azog chuckled as he shifted to do another cut when a pistol went off and Azog roared out in pain while Bilbo’s shout of agony choked in his throat as all three prongs clawed his face, one skipping over his lips slightly.

Bilbo trembled as Azog landed on the floor next to Bilbo and he immediately twisted, ignoring the fiery agony that coated his face as he moved when he heard the Dwarven battle cry, Azog roaring back as he surged up to meet a massive Dwarf in a mid-swing with his claw arm, catching on the _sword_ the Dwarf was wielding.

Bilbo shoved his sleeve against his face, scrambling to his feet, even as he grabbed the pistol while the Orc and Dwarf burst out into the street.

Azog’s own pistol was out the moment they were on their feet and Bilbo noticed the Man taking aim at the Dwarf, the sword having been lost in favor of a complex looking rifle.

He didn’t hesitate to shoot, the Man shouting out in agony as he dropped his pistol and he kept it focused on the Man while keeping his sleeve against his cheek, not blinking when someone shifted his hand to shove a handkerchief there instead, letting him keep his gun trained on the Man while the dark haired Dwarf fought Azog.

The Man looked tired and worn and Bilbo turned away, letting his pistol drop.

The Man wouldn’t run.

No, he’d spent the last however long it was with Orcs and he would not leave this town without Azog to face them alone.

However, as they were not here, that meant they were in the woods at the foot of the mountains, and that meant they were dead.

Because in those woods was Bilbo’s Briar, and Briar had an unnatural, for her at least, hatred of Orcs.

Bilbo instead focused on the black-haired Dwarf facing off against Azog in the street and watched as Azog began to prowl forward, having smacked the Dwarf’s complex looking rifle out of his hands.

Bilbo didn’t hesitate to aim and shoot, Azog turning in surprise to face Bilbo.

That was all the Dwarf needed to scramble for his rifle and when Azog turned, done playing with the Dwarf (Azog hated to just _end it_ ), it was to a shotgun blast to the chest.

Two more went off and then Azog was hitting the ground, unmoving. Bilbo eyed the Dwarf, who turned to face him, even as Bilbo turned, surprised to find a Dwarf with up-swoop braids and a thick handlebar mustache. “We got a healer that can look at that,” he offered, even as Bilbo felt Barliman remove the pistol.

“When you said you were running, you weren’t kidding,” the Man muttered and Bilbo laughed, even though it hurt.

*~*~*

Bilbo winced as Óin cleaned out the cuts while Thorin, the leader of the Dwarven bandits Bilbo had been hearing rumors about, glowered at him from where he was leaning against the wall. “He must have cleaned that claw before going in to see you. Normally this would have already been infected, with the amount of people he disembowels with it,” Óin muttered.

Bilbo didn’t comment on that, knowing that to be a rumor Azog had insisted on being spread.

He needed the claw to help him eat and Azog, despite being an Orc, knew what could make one ill. And he had enough paranoia to not want to show any weakness to his lieutenants, though Bology, Azog’s son, was loyal in a way not usually seen in Orcs.

“Where’s the Man?” Bilbo asked.

“Being held by the Sheriff. A circuit judge will get him,” the one who gave Bilbo his handkerchief, Bofur, explained and Bilbo snorted.

“What?” Bofur asked, while Thorin tensed.

“He won’t be there when the circuit judge comes, because when Bolog learns of his father’s death and realizes all that is his father’s is now his, including that Man, he’ll want him back. And Bolog? He’s worse than his father. Or better, were you to have asked Azog,” Bilbo corrected softly wincing as Óin began to slather a salve onto his cuts.

“How would he learn? Azog and his roaming band of Orcs, and apparently now Men, do not stay close enough together for the information to reach Bolog in time for the Man to get saved,” Thorin growled and Bilbo couldn’t stop the humorless, cracking, laugh from being ripped from him.

“Why do you laugh?” Thorin demanded while Bofur tensed.

“Because Azog and his Orcs haven’t been roaming in near on fifty years! He took over a town in the East, twenty years ago and before that he was settled in that area for thirty years. In that same amount of time he gained enough resistance to the sun so he _could_ take over the town,” Bilbo corrected and Thorin seemed to tense, even as Óin stilled.

“How do you know all of that?” Thorin demanded but Bilbo was distracted by Óin trying to get his shirt off.

“I can take care of that,” Bilbo protested softly as he shoved Óin’s hands away gently.

“I need to see. What if it is poisoned?” Óin snapped.

“He rode in on his white Warg, and he would never put her in such danger, so I am fine!” Bilbo argued and he was suddenly being lifted and slammed into a wall, Thorin in his space and holding him off the ground.

“How do you know all of this?” Thorin demanded, even as Óin ordered Thorin to put his patient down.

Bilbo eyed Thorin and wondered what Azog had taken from him.

Dwarves had long lives and longer memories, and some to escape those memories shucked off their honor and turned to dark deeds. In the end, Bilbo knew that Thorin would not be happy till he got his answer and even then would search for a way to devalue it.

He had lost too much and it would take time to accept he had gotten vengeance for whoever he had sworn it for.

Possibly.

“That town? The one Azog took over in the East? It was the one where I was born and raised in,” Bilbo answered and he grunted as he was dropped.

“So, like a coward, you ran and left your town for ruin,” Thorin snarled and Bilbo stilled, feeling the world leech away.

He felt Óin remove his waistcoat and Bilbo just stared straight ahead, unseeing.

Maybe he was a coward.

After all he didn’t kill Azog the moment he learned that his family, after his mother’s death (he was allowed to attend the funeral alone, though the white Warg had come with him, his shackle chained to the Warg’s collar), had sold the farm and abandoned him to Azog with no attempt, not even one by some of his more steady Took cousins, to free him.

But then, he knew Bolog would be worse, and that the tortures he would face after the death of Azog would only be the start of the pain he would have for the rest of his natural life, for Bolog wouldn’t let him die.

And Briar…Briar would have been killed in front of his eyes, because the Warg would have tried to save him.

The Warg that was too small and Bilbo had found hiding in their barn after a storm, who had curbed her own natural desires to stay with Bilbo, to…

“By Mahal!” Óin cursed and Bilbo realized that his shirt had been removed.

The mass of scars, most accidental, some not, across his front and his shoulders were obvious, as five to twenty years was not enough for scars on a Hobbit to fade into near invisibility.

Most matched Azog’s claw and Óin touched one on his shoulder which caused Bilbo’s skin to twitch, but he otherwise didn’t move. “How did he get so close to you?” Óin asked.

“He just did. My family and I, we were Hobbits, so we were spared. He needed the farms. Ten years after Azog took over, all but one disappeared into the night,” Bilbo answered softly and Óin stared and Bilbo stared back.

It was in that moment Bilbo saw it click in Óin’s mind, how Bilbo got so close. Óin frowned and bent his head, focusing on the spur cut while Thorin snorted. “And abandoned one of your own in the same sweep of running,” Thorin stated and Bilbo decided to ignore him.

He would devalue Bilbo’s help as much as he could and Bilbo couldn’t change his mind.

“There’ll be lots of bruising, but you should be all right,” Óin stated and Bilbo nodded, whispering his thanks before he stood, carefully tugging his shirt back on proper, and then his waistcoat.

He headed to the door, and turned to look at Thorin, who was looking at him. “The Hobbits that left went to the Shire, back in the old country,” he added and then left.

His feet were soundless, even as he headed to the general store.

He needed to get himself, and Briar, packed. If he was lucky, he could get two weeks ahead of Bolog’s hunting party.

*~*~*

Briar was small, for a Warg, lean and long with a gleam in her eyes that spoke of untold viciousness.

It was just very much pointed in the direction of those who would harm Bilbo. He still wasn’t sure how he had managed it, but in the end, she was his very vicious bodyguard, and that remained so most especially now.

Despite being small and fluff, blood marred her jaws, speaking of the Wargs and Orcs she had slain. “Get them all girl?” he murmured as he scratched her shoulder, earning a happy rumble before she snarled and shook her head.

He sighed and scratched behind her ear. “You tried your best,” he reassured and the Warg huffed and growled even as Bilbo walked back to get her ready to go.

He threw the padded saddle over the Warg’s back and slid it back until it was in place. Once double-checking that it felt comfortable, he began to work all the buckles and straps into place, making sure that it was settled properly.

“Good?” he double-checked and Briar let out a rumble.

Bilbo nodded and gently shoved at her shoulder before leading her up into the forest further, Briar rumbling at the realization that Bilbo had come up earlier without her knowledge. “Silly Warg,” he teased gently and smiled at the way she perked up at the stag he had downed.

The poor thing had a badly broken leg and so Bilbo had decided to put him out of his misery.

Briar didn’t care, instead tucking into the meal with great gusto while Bilbo began to settle the packs into place when he heard voices.

“I’m tellin’ you Fee, I saw the packs, and the stag! Someone is in these woods, ‘sides the Comp…” the voice chattered and Bilbo shifted to be in front of Briar while the Warg tensed behind him.

Bilbo shouldn’t have worried, however, as when the Dwarf with barely a stubble stumbled into the clearing, he fell silent upon seeing Bilbo.

Or Briar as being small for a Warg still meant bigger than a Hobbit.

“Kíli wha…” a blond haired Dwarf stated, only to fall silent upon seeing them.

Briar shifted and hunched over her meal further, a rumbling growl starting and that got the pair of Dwarves moving.

“Warg!” they shouted and Bilbo cursed, even as he began to shove at Briar, the stag only half devoured.

Two packs were enough, he didn’t need things like thick coats or furs, but he needed Briar. The Warg, however, snarled as she tried to curl around Bilbo and soon the war-cries of the Dwarves echoed through the clearing.

Bilbo let out a vile curse in Hobbitish and was suddenly up on the Warg’s back, shifting properly to have her listening.

She snarled and shook her head, though she did grab up the stag, growling lowly as a heavily muscled Dwarf with tattoos took up a defensable position with his axe.

Briar immediately focused on him with all her predator instinct and Bilbo groaned, even as he slid down over her shoulder, standing between her and the Dwarf. “No, no, no! Last time you went like that, you killed someone! We agreed! No killing people unless absolutely necessary!” Bilbo scolded and Briar growled as she tried to step around Bilbo.

“No,” Bilbo scolded, ignoring the Dwarves as he did so and Briar growled before she dropped the deer and hunched over it, going back to eating.

He turned back to the Dwarves, only to find Thorin had joined them, along with Bofur. “Mister Thorin, how good to see you again,” Bilbo answered and Briar snorted as she crunched on the bones.

“You have a Warg?” Thorin asked.

“Briar isn’t owned by anyone. She just stays with me. And I would like to get moving before Bolog’s people get here, so if you don’t mind, you and your company are between me and my packs,” Bilbo answered.

“Where is the town?” Thorin asked.

“No,” Bilbo responded and Thorin bristled.

“No?” he growled and Briar shifted behind Bilbo, the snapping and cracking of bones an obvious intimidation technique.

“No. That place is crawling with Orcs and Bolog will want your head! Just be bait! Pick them off a group at a time! The Man will spill! But you have a group of people and I just have Briar, and I want to get out of here before they show because I am _not_ going back there!” Bilbo responded, even as he moved to get his packs.

When Thorin reached out to grab Bilbo however, Briar surged, jaws clacking shut centimeters from Thorin’s hand, snarling lowly. Bilbo stilled as Thorin glared at Briar, who glared back. “Briar doesn’t like people trying to grab me,” Bilbo stated and Briar snorted even as she stalked around Thorin to walk with Bilbo, lifting her head enough to glower at the two Dwarves that started that.

Bilbo immediately began to settle the packs and he swung up onto Briar’s back. “Why won’t you go back? Don’t you want to reclaim your home?” Kíli asked suddenly and Bilbo shook his head.

“You’re assuming I consider that place home. It was just a cage that my relations chained me up tight in,” Bilbo answered and he shifted, Briar turning with his shift and he stopped with a sigh before he turned them back around to face Thorin.

“Why do you want to take the fight to them? You got your vengeance for whomever Azog killed of your family,” he inquired.

Thorin glared and Bilbo shook his head. “The Dwarf mountain city then, the one in the mountains that glow blue at sunset?” Bilbo asked and watched the Dwarves shiver.

Bilbo sighed and shook his head before he looked East.

“Of course it is. That…that gotten taken over recently, by Dwarf standards, didn’t it?” Bilbo asked as he swung back down, Briar grumbling.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just you and twelve other Dwarves to take back a dragon captured mountain?” Bilbo asked.

“They are the best,” Thorin snapped and Bilbo sighed.

“For your mountain, I’ll go back. For your home, with your dreams and hopes, I’ll go back. But don’t ask me to stay,” Bilbo stated and made his way back to Briar, swinging up into the saddle.

(A year later, with a dragon guarded mountain and the Orc Town burnt to the ground, with the Orcs scattering to the shadows, Bilbo Baggins decided that maybe he could stay after all.)

(Briar laughed at him for a week for it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever and I am still not happy with it, but I posted it anyway.
> 
> Next time, I am just going to write the Great Adventures of Bilbo and Briar.


	6. 1920's/Mafia (Teen, Bilbo/Thorin, Human AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band was playing and the drinks were flowing and a smile was dancing across Bilbo Baggins lips.
> 
> He was the product of old and new money, his mother's dowry paying for the house he now hosted parties in, and that was all there was to him.
> 
> Or so those who attended the parties thought.
> 
> (Roaring '20s, Angst, Marriage, Depression, the Great Depression start mentioned, Death)

Everyone wanted to go to a party hosted by Bilbo Baggins.

The band was always playing, the drinks were always flowing, and a smile was always dancing across his lips, forever in time with the dancers that swung through the ballroom. However, there were those that side-eyed Bilbo Baggins, for while his was an old name, the money was new, an infusion from his mother (who was new money through and through), for his father's family had just about squandered away the family fortune.

But still he stood there, turning down dances as he watched others enjoy his party.

He talked with those who came, settling into easy conversation.

He sent the Durin twins laughing and scrambling away, blond and brunette practically twining around the same woman for the evening any time they came, for everyone knew that there were thirteen people with a standing invitation to his home, and the Durin twins were only two.

No one really knew how they got this standing invitation, but no one looked twice, anymore, when suddenly the Durin twins appeared as if they lived in the house, how Balin and Dwalin would sometimes come and hug Bilbo, even when normally he'd twist deftly out of any and all hugs. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur came rarely and if they did, no one said a thing, and Nori was  _always_ lingering on the edges, but if he took center stage, it was only because Dwalin had come out to play, as it were.

Dori was there on occasion and Ori was known for his serial in the magazines, so no one looked twice when he would press Bilbo for a tale or two from his time as an adventurer.

Oin always showed up sooner rather than later, a doctor who was more than willing to look the other way for some of the things he treated, and Gloin eagerly awaited a time when he could come.

But Thorin Durin, who came on occasion, took over the party.

His presence filled the room and the ladies who wished to marry into such a prestigious line always tried to curl up close to him.

(And the entire time, no one noticed how Thorin’s eyes always found Bilbo, no matter the crowd, and no one noticed how Bilbo’s smile became _real_ upon seeing Thorin enter the room.)

*~*~*

The party was winding down and Bilbo was waving people ‘good-bye’, as they drifted off. The servants were already circling through, tugging the curtains closed and Bilbo turned, heading to his bedroom.

The moment the door was closed, the lock clicking behind him, hands were on his waist and pulling him close. Bilbo whimpered lowly as he crashed into a broad, warm, chest and suddenly his lips were being claimed in a biting kiss, one Bilbo was ever familiar with.

“Thorin,” he breathed and the taller man let out a low mumble as he ducked his head down to press kisses from behind Bilbo’s ear down his neck to his collarbone.

“Bilbo,” Thorin answered softly and Bilbo clutched at Thorin even as he did his best to kiss Thorin back, whimpers being kept pressed behind bitten lips.

“Thorin, the servants! We…we,” Bilbo begged quietly and Thorin immediately leaned up to press a kiss to Bilbo’s lips.

“I know, I know,” Thorin whispered and pulled Bilbo closer and into a devouring kiss as he divested the smaller man of his clothes while Bilbo did the same to him.

*~*~*

The band is playing, and the drinks are flowing, and the host has a smile playing across his face.

But his eyes are dead as they search the floor and he twists from hugs even offered by friends now.

And sometimes the Durins come, but its not the same, for the twins do not smile and the wife of Thorin smiles thinly.

And when Thorin greets Bilbo, the smile that spreads across Bilbo’s face is like a crack in a porcelain mask.

And then one day Bilbo Baggins is found in his room, cold as ice.

But it was October 24th in 1929 and the only ones who mourned his passing were old friends that Bilbo never explained.

Bilbo’s money, tied up in mainly in oil, was willed to his friends, to care for them even in his death, though his friends (and Thorin most especially) would have rather had Bilbo instead.

(And Thorin spent the rest of his days wishing to go back to meetings in darkened rooms and frantic kisses and wonder if Bilbo died from his fragile heart being so callously broken by Thorin’s own hands.)


	7. Steampunk (Teen, Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has always glowed for Bilbo, but the Dwarves react as his mother did; in shock.
> 
> But the leader is furious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went far more mystical than I expected.
> 
> Like, beyond _Castle in the Sky_ mystical.

Bilbo sighed as he pulled his father's pocket watch out of his vest pocket and huffed over the fact that it was already slowing down. He glanced at his windows before he smiled and took it off the chain, walking to a back room that was once his mother's and now his.

Tinkering was frowned upon in the Shire for gentlemanly Hobbits such as himself, but he apparently had enough of his mother in him to not care...so long as it was in secret.

Once settled at his worktable, he swung his magnifier over the table as the lights flickered to life around him at his turning of a switch (Yavanna bless his mother for her creative spirit who created a steam powered generator to light just this section of the smial) and set the watch under it. He then carefully took it apart, setting everything in a line before he pulled out the cleaning supplies as well as his tools and replacement cogs and springs.

This was going to be a doozy, he could tell.

*~*~*

Bilbo smiled brightly as the watch ticked along, working perfectly once more, and he shut up the workshop with a quick glance over his various projects in various states of completion.

He looked back down at his watch as he walked down the hallway to his sitting room and ran his thumb along the lens before he clicked the watch shut. He hesitated, briefly, before he reattached the chain to it and put it back into the pocket of his vest. He sighed and leaned against his mantle to stare at the perfectly round crystal that was set on the metal stand in the center of the mantle.

It was a relic of his mother’s adventuring years, swearing that she had ‘gained it from a Dwarven King’, which generally meant that she stole it.

But why, Bilbo had never understood and he smiled, gently reaching out to touch it, not even flinching when it glowed under his touch. Like he had as a child, he let his finger trace across the crystal, the glow following his fingertip before he let his hand drop.

He then grabbed his pipe and headed outside.

The Rain Season would soon be upon them and if he didn’t hurry, he would miss one of the last sunny days till spring came again.

*~*~*

When the runner had come up to Bag-End and spoken of a caved in roof, Bilbo had not hesitated hooking his loyal Myrtle up to a cart and heading down to his tenant’s cottage. It had taken most of the day in the mud and rain to get the room cleared out, but by then it was too late.

All the food had been spoiled, because the room that had caved unexpectedly was the pantry.

Bilbo had immediately rounded on his cousins (Longo and Otho) for not getting to it sooner and had the family that lived there moved into a nicer smial (one of the actual ancestral smials, though a small one), along with having the pantry stocked, apologies falling from his lips all the while. They had smiled warmly and Bilbo had soon been relieved to find that they forgave him for the damage.

He had things written out and paid and a promise to fix everything, as well as replace items of value (though more than a few were happy to give up mathoms to replace some of the things), almost all of it was taken out of the Sackville-Baggins’s half of the fortune.

Longo did not bother trying to argue.

Bilbo had then headed home, wanting desperately to get out of the rain and would have probably made it in good time, except half-way home, Myrtle started to a stop.

Bilbo frowned and leaned around, only to find a tall Man dressed all in gray standing in the middle of the road. He sighed and sat back, ignoring how the rain drenched him and sighed.

“Gandalf,” he greeted and the Man, the _Wizard_ , responded with a warm, “Bilbo.”

Bilbo sighed and waved to the cart.

This was going to be a long, long, night.

*~*~*

“No,” Bilbo stated as he settled at the table, a fair dinner spread out.

Myrtle had come first, Bilbo rubbing her off and down and covering her with a blanket before he gave her warm water and mash to help keep her from getting sick. He’d check on her in the morning, most likely before dawn, so dinner was late.

Gandalf didn’t seem to mind, but Bilbo did.

“I remember a Hobbit lad that always tinkered on that bench out there and always looked for adventure, and found some too if I am not mistaken,” Gandalf stated, already puffing on his pipe.

Bilbo ignored the way he could feel the phantom pain of a lashes across his back and a sword in his abdomen.

He also ignored the sound of something rolling across the wood, though Gandalf did not. “What is that, my boy?” Gandalf asked and Bilbo glanced over his shoulder to see the round stone that only glowed for Bilbo roll out of sight before he turned back around.

“Just something that likes to move when I have guests. Nothing to worry about,” Bilbo answered, even as he heard it rolling back.

Gandalf frowned and moved to look when Bilbo felt it bump against his ankle, a curl of curiosity wrap around his mind that was not his.

Bilbo huffed in amusement and knelt down, smiling at the way it had already begun to glow faintly before he picked it up, the glow curling around him as Gandalf let out a soft sound. “I’m afraid, Bilbo my boy, that you don’t have a choice,” Gandalf stated as he stood.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Bilbo demanded as he cradled the stone protectively to his chest.

“My boy, the stone in your hands is not any ordinary stone, it is the _Arkenstone_ , and it only glows for one person. And that person, is you,” Gandalf stated as he gripped his hat and staff tight.

“What? But…” Bilbo protested as Gandalf headed for the door.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, for dinner, with the Dwarves,” Gandalf stated.

“Dwarves? Gandalf, what?” Bilbo asked as he chased the Wizard, but he was already walking to the gate.

“Keep it safe, Bilbo, though it seems you have done quite a thorough job already!” Gandalf called and then he was gone.

Bilbo stared at the darkness before he recovered his senses and shut the door, locking it securely. “Wizards,” he muttered.

The Glow-stone, or the Arkenstone, only sent a spike of agreement through Bilbo’s mind.

*~*~*

The Arkenstone trailed after Bilbo throughout the smial the next day, curiosity touching Bilbo’s mind on occasion, sometimes happiness.

“You miss Dwarves?” he asked softly as he picked the Arkenstone up to cradle it to his chest.

There was a touch of sadness and Bilbo sighed.

Sentient stones don’t exist, according to his books.

He’s never been inclined to disprove them, even when he holds proof of them being wrong in his hands.

“Well, maybe these Dwarves will be the ones you’ve been waiting for,” Bilbo murmured softly and the Arkenstone sent such a sharp blast of happiness and hope that Bilbo waivered on his feet as he went half-blind.

As his vision came back, soft touches of apology curled around his mind, and Bilbo wondered if maybe he should just tuck the Arkenstone away in his pocket.

The resulting negative had Bilbo hitting the floor in a near dead faint.

*~*~*

Dwalin came first, fierce and unyielding. He never glanced at the sound of rolling crystal on wood and the Arkenstone spun around Bilbo’s feet, hiding from Dwalin. Worry brushed against the back of Bilbo’s mind, but only a slight distraction. He shivered a little and went about making sure Dwalin had food.

“There’s not enough room in here,” Dwalin stated.

“Oh…um…well, my clockwork bot is in need of repairs, so I guess we’ll have to wait for more to come,” Bilbo stated, even as he adjusted the lights so they didn’t completely sap the generator.

Most still relied on reflecting lamps and Bilbo never explained how he had the electric system in his smial. “I can look at it, if ya want,” Dwalin offered as he dug into the food Bilbo had set out for him.

“Oh, no. The clockwork bot isn’t here,” Bilbo lied easily and he felt the amusement spike up from the Arkenstone, even as the doorbell rang.

Bilbo sighed and the Arkenstone rolled ahead of him as he headed to the door.

*~*~*

Balin brought about such joy from the Arkenstone, Bilbo thought it was a miracle that he hadn’t collapsed onto the ground, but it had not come out of hiding.

Fíli and Kíli had been met with indifference, and then the pile came, darting and rushing through, Gandalf at their backs.

They cheered and made merry and ate a great deal, but Bilbo was happy to cook for a large amount of people and if the silver-haired Dwarf took to helping out with the tea well…

Bilbo wasn’t one to say no.

The Arkenstone, the entire time, swirled and rolled around their feet and no one looked down.

“Got a runaway gadget lad?” one, Bofur, asked and Bilbo hummed.

“You could say that,” Bilbo answered and Bofur laughed.

Bilbo forgot that they were Dwarves and not Hobbits and would not find the idea of Bilbo tinkering odd.

“He can’t fix a clockwork bot, I doubt he has a gadget,” Dwalin stated and Bilbo snorted as he settled a platter of food down on the table.

“Master Dwalin, I just said it wasn’t here. Not that I couldn’t repair my own clockwork bot,” Bilbo stated and quickly whisked himself away, the Arkenstone rolling around to continue hiding behind Bilbo’s feet.

However, that didn’t stop them from tormenting him and it took all of his self-control not to unleash his steam powered guards on them all.

The Arkenstone found it all amusing, but its amusement died with the Dwarves at the ominous pounding at the door.

*~*~*

Bilbo swayed and his hand flew out to catch the wall as the Arkenstone’s joy upon the new Dwarf entering the smial flew through his brain. With so much contact (more than he had had since tweenhood) recently, he was starting to get lightheaded.

“This is who we need, Gandalf? He looks ready to drop where he stands,” the Dwarf, Thorin, stated and Bilbo gripped the wall tighter as the Arkenstone’s spike of anger, on Bilbo’s behalf, ricocheted through his brain.

“I assure you, Thorin Oakenshield, he is exactly who you need,” Gandalf stated and Bilbo huffed a sigh before he began to make his way back to the dining room, the Arkenstone rolling ahead of him.

*~*~*

The map clicked and whirred as it was opened by Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo watched how it unfurled, noticing that it was constantly shifting, as if it were a moving map of the stars.

Before he could look at it closer, despite the glares he was receiving from the Dwarves, he felt a bump on his ankle, insistent and demanding.

He huffed, looking down at the irritating stone, even as he heard the Dwarves talk of the Calamity.

Bilbo, however, was distracted by pinpricks of ‘gimme attention’ the Arkenstone was shoving into his skull.

He sighed and knelt down. “All right you irritating little thing,” he stated, not seeing how Gandalf hid his smile behind his beard as Bilbo scooped the Arkenstone up into his hands, the glow immediately circling around him.

“Well, bless me,” Bofur breathed, even as Bilbo muttered at the Arkenstone, before he realized that the room had fallen deathly silent after Bofur’s words and he looked up to find the Dwarves staring at him much as his mother had.

Well, except Thorin, who looked ready to kill him.

“How did you come by this?” Thorin demanded and Bilbo immediately pulled back, curling his hands over the Arkenstone to press it to his chest.

“I…my mother. She had it and it just…alwaAAAAAAAAH!” Bilbo tried to explain when suddenly pain lanced through his head.

He felt himself hit the ground distantly, but all he was aware of was the Arkenstone shoving images into his head.

A mountain, guarded by a steam powered and clockwork dragon that glowed red, who turned on the Dwarves when the Guardian of the Heart, of the Arkenstone, ran off with it. That it was jealously guarded and kept from running away till a brave Hobbit lass came, freeing it and a Wizard telling her to keep it safe for all her days and to her children’s as well, till the new Guardian would be claimed.

That the Arkenstone had chosen Bilbo because he was always willing to help, that he was kind, and that he would never think of harming those around him.

Bilbo shook his head as more feeling assaulted him and his brain, tearing at his heart and curling up like the famed dragon that turned on the Dwarves for the destruction of trust.

When Bilbo came back to himself, he was gasping for air and his face was wet.

“Right,” he panted out and looked up into the shocked faces of the Dwarves.

“When do we leave?” Bilbo asked, wondering how he could pack up all his tinkering tools.

Oh, and get someone to watch over the tenants.

In Longo’s hands, there wouldn’t _be_ any tenants to return _to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not happy with this one either.
> 
> *sticks tongue out at it*
> 
> Oh well, Disney/Fairytale is next.
> 
> *grins and rubs hands together while cackling*


	8. Disney Movie/Fairytale (Mature, Bilbo/Dori, Dark, Dark, So Dark)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a being who, when they speak, the most precious pearls fall from their lips and when they bleed the most precious rubies hit the ground, and when they cry gems without a name and by far more precious than anything named clatter across the ground.
> 
> The greedy king wants this being, more than anything in the world.
> 
> (Angst, Madness, Death, Non-descriptive force-feeding, Imprisonment, Torture)

Once upon a time, in the great Dwarven City of Erebor, there was a cruel and greedy king by the name of Thrór, who desired above all else a treasury filled with only the most exquisite of all metal and all gems.

Thrór’s son _,_  Thráin, had disappeared after a battle that had taken his youngest son and left the eldest son to bear the burden of having a mad grandfather and a kingdom of people looking to him.

Things only got worse when word reached  _T_ hrór of a being who when he spoke, the most precious pearls fell from his lips and when he bled the most precious of rubies and when he cried gems that had no name scattered across the floor.

Thrór immediately demanded that they go out and find this being and bring it here to add to the treasury.

Many Dwarves were hesitant to do as Thrór demanded, but when he threatened their families, his greed blinding him to all else, they immediately scattered to do so. They searched far and wide, with no luck of finding such a being.

The years passed until, one day, as Balin was passing through a land called the Shire, he saw some Hobbit tweens running through the fields when one, with golden-honey curls and hazel eyes, and obviously the one in charge of watching them, tripped and fell.

He let out a yelp and the others slid to a stop, even as a drop of blood welled up and as it fell, turned into a ruby to land in the grass. “Oh, dear,” he stated, but Balin already knew that this was who his king wanted.

At first Balin, thought of saying nothing, and would have probably said nothing, if he had found Bilbo alone, but no.

For, you see, he was with a small caravan of Dwarves, who looked more than ready to turn around right then to tell their King and it took many carefully chosen words from Balin to convince them to leave the Hobbit alone till they returned to their King on time.

Upon arriving, Balin reported to Thrór of the Hobbit in the Shire and Thrór immediately mustered a great army and had them march on the Shire.

The Hobbits, peaceful beings, though you should not make the mistake of thinking ‘peaceful’ meant ‘defenseless’, they were quite defenseless in the face of an army of Dwarves.

When the Thain asked them what they wanted, they explained they wished for the Hobbit that could speak pearls, bleed rubies, and cry nameless gems and, if they were given the Hobbit, they would leave the Shire in peace.

Belladonna Baggins, the widow of Bungo Baggins, immediately slipped away to hide her son away, only to hear one of the nastier cousins say, “That’s Bilbo Baggins!”

Belladonna Baggins, once Belladonna Took, was not one to let her son be taken by a greedy King, for she had wandered the world and she knew of King Thrór and would not let her son be condemned to such a cage.

With the secret revealed, Belladonna took off for Bag-End and the desperate Dwarves took off in hot pursuit of her.

She led them over hill and through bush and down roads, but in the end, she took them straight to Bag-End, where Bilbo sat in the front garden. She shouted at Bilbo to run, but the Dwarves, in hopes of silencing her, shot her and fearless Belladonna Baggins fell down dead.

Bilbo immediately cried for his mother, pearls falling to get lost in the grass and collapsed down upon her in tears, the gems cascading down and the Dwarves, who were not cruel or bad Dwarves, but desperate ones, grabbed Bilbo and hauled him back to the waiting army, despite his wails for his mother and his tears, leaving a trail of precious gems and pearls to mark his sorrow.

“We thank you for the Hobbit,” Balin stated, for he had to lead the expedition to the Shire, and Bilbo was placed into a wagon that was not particularly comfortable, but would hold him, and they took off to Erebor.

Bilbo’s pleading to be taken home fell on what might as well have been deaf ears and tears long kept Bilbo company, until his throat was sore and his eyes dry.

At that moment, he collapsed onto the floor of the wagon and gave no sign of life for many days before Óin was forced to sit with him and insure he ate.

When they reached Erebor, Thrór was quite excited by the acquisition of a new treasure and when Bilbo was dragged before him in shackles, Thrór was quite displeased with his looks, and demanded proof that this was the being they spoke of.

All the Dwarves hesitated but, in the end, a Dwarf by the name of Nori, to save his little brother, cut Bilbo’s palm and soon a drop of blood fell through the air and clattered as a ruby once it touched the ground.

Thrór, greatly pleased, demanded that Bilbo be cleaned up and dressed in the finest of clothes, and set in a place of honor Thrór had constructed within the treasury, where Bilbo would spend his days while his nights would be spent in a small chamber constructed off the treasury for Bilbo.

As this was done, Prince Thorin watched with a heavy heart as the gentle being of the Shire was ushered away with nary a friend near.

For the first day, Bilbo neither cried nor spoke, earning Thrór’s wrath.

On the second day, Bilbo said merely one word, “No,” and fell silent for the rest of the day.

On the third, Thrór said Bilbo would either speak or cry or the gems would be harvested the third way, but Bilbo remained stubbornly silent.

On the fourth day, Thrór had Bilbo dragged into the dungeons and carefully tortured to spill drops of blood, which were carefully swept up, but still Bilbo did not cry out, though he could not stop his tears of pain, which were also swept up.

On the fifth day, when Bilbo trembled from his injuries as Óin tended to him, Thrór simply said, “If you do not start speaking and crying on command till you can no longer do either, my Treasure of the Treasury, I will send an army of Dwarves to burn the Shire to the ground, blackening it till nothing shall grow there anymore and harvesting the very ground under it for cheap rock.”

Bilbo immediately broke, sobbing and begging for Thrór to leave the Shire be.

“So long as you do as I demand, my Treasure of the Treasury, you will find that the Shire will remained unharmed by Dwarven hands.”

Bilbo agreed vocally and Thrór demanded Bilbo tell him all of his childhood.

Bilbo obeyed.

*~*~*

Bilbo had been speaking, and crying, on command for a week when one day he collapsed on the way to his place of “honor” in the treasury.

When he was woken, Bilbo begged to be able to go outside, and feel the living soil under his feet and the sun on his face.

He begged until hoarse and tears slid from his eyes to clatter on the ground, while Thrór watched him dispassionately.

“How will I know you will not run?” Thrór asked and Bilbo, trembling before the greedy king, fell before him and said that Thrór could do anything he so desired to insure Bilbo could not run, so long as Bilbo was allowed outside, just for a time.

Óin was called and he was told to make a suggestion to ensure that Bilbo could not run.

Óin knew that the King wanted a permanent, and scarring, solution, but Óin could not bring himself to suggest something that could not be fixed, and suggested special metal shackles with a short metal bar connecting them right below the knee and around the ankles, as well as being carried by one who could not be bribed to cart him away.

Thrór had scowled and huffed, but agreed and the special shackles were made.

But, as punishment for Bilbo, he was sent to the dungeons for the time that it took to make the shackles, and the amount of rubies, tear gems, and pearls gathered appeased Thrór’s greed, for now.

Bilbo was carried out into the sun by a Dwarf named Dori some days, a Dwarf named Bofur other days, and a Dwarf named Dwalin the rest of the time.

Of them all, however, Bilbo felt safest with Dori and, soon, the pair took to discussing teas as Bilbo soaked in the sun and good living soil, though nothing grew there.

Dori told Bilbo that nothing had grown on the slopes of Erebor since Thrór had sent the army to march on the Shire.

Bilbo said it might be a curse placed on the mountain by Yavanna, and Dori neither confirmed nor denied he was of the same mind.

One day, a year into Bilbo’s imprisonment (with more than a few trips to the dungeons to his name), Dori in the shade of the rocks they hid behind, told Bilbo of his brother, Ori, and why they did what they did.

“Why do you not leave then?” Bilbo asked and Dori turned to face Bilbo, who smiled weakly at the Dwarf.

“What do you mean?” Dori inquired.

“Leave Erebor. Go someplace safe,” Bilbo pressed softly, as if afraid of being overheard, but Dori shook his head.

“That is not an option. Were we to leave, Thrór would have us branded as traitors and criminals and no matter where we went, we would be unable to have a life. He has enough gold to buy enough people off, even if we did manage to get someplace safe,” Dori answered, even softer.

Bilbo nodded at that and then, hesitantly, shifted until he was leaning against Dori, knowing that he might be mixing relief of being outside with love for Dori, but realized he did not feel as strongly for Bofur or Dwalin.

However, Bilbo knew such feelings, real or imagined, would not be able to be pursued in this state and so just absorbed as much comfort as he could.

So it passed, from then on, that Bilbo cuddled up to Dori once outside, relaxing to the sound of a heartbeat under his ears and a comforting hand in his hair.

It was most unfortunate, however, that they were found like that a few months later.

Thrór was furious and demanded Dori be punished.

Bilbo, desperate to save one of the few people who were kind to him, threw himself before Thrór and said that he was at fault. That he was the only one who did any wrong and Thrór, after a moment of hesitation, had Bilbo thrown into the dungeons for the remainder of the month, with revoking of outside privileges for another three after his stint in the dungeons.

Bilbo did not plead to have his sentence lessened, and instead went off to the dungeons, the torturers given explicit instructions to wring everything they could out of the Hobbit and, when he could give no more, to break a bone for every day he could not produce anything.

They obeyed.

Unknown to the elderly King Thrór, however, that had been the last straw.

Thorin had had enough, especially with how unnaturally his grandfather was living and turned to his conspiracy which flocked around him, Nori among them.

“What do we do?” Balin asked, guilt at having brought the Hobbit to this eating at his heart.

“I have an idea,” Nori stated and they looked to him.

“We figure out why he’s been livin’ so long,” Nori stated and Thorin frowned.

Silence stretched and Dori mused, aloud, that the Arkenstone seemed to be the start of Thrór’s greed.

Óin nodded in agreement, followed soon by Balin, while Thorin seemed to tense.

“We have to destroy the Arkenstone,” Thorin stated and the silence that fell over the conspirators’ room could only be described as deathly.

Far below their feet, Bilbo’s voice gave out.

*~*~*

It was a week before they could put their plan into action and the destruction of the Arkenstone unleashed a backlash that nearly blinded Thorin, but sent  _T_ hrór keeling over dead in place.

Thorin immediately stepped into place and demanded that Bilbo be released from his imprisonment.

The Dwarves rushed to obey, even though Thorin had not yet been through his coronation.

Bilbo was in a horrible state, pale and shaking, with two fingers broken.

Óin quickly took him to the infirmary and opened the high vaulted window to let in sunlight as he began to take care of Bilbo.

“You’re free Bilbo,” Thorin promised, even as he stared at the sky through the hole in the mountain.

*~*~*

Spring had come when Bilbo was finally allowed to return to the Shire, three years after he had been taken.

Years later, Bilbo returned, with the written out desire to meet with Dori once more.

As it turned out, Dori was on his way to the Shire to do the same with Bilbo.

(They met halfway and met each other halfway in all other things too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mixture of a few fairy-tales with my own spin thrown in.
> 
> The first is _Rumpelstiltskin_ , with the greedy king who hears a rumor and demands the one the rumor is about be brought to him, but also the threat to kill who the one the rumor is about's parents/loved ones/pet dog/whichever.
> 
> The other is _Diamonds and Toads_ and others like it that have to do with the virtuous ones having gems and other things falling from their hair, lips, and from washing their hands.


	9. Police/Detectives (Teen, Bilbo/Nori, past Bilbo/Mystery, Human AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How this became his division Bilbo Baggins would never know.
> 
> [Additional Pairing(s): Dwalin/Original-ish Character]
> 
> (Crime, mention of a dead dog that died peacefully in his sleep, mention of a dead dog being autopsied to figure out cause of death due to rabies scare that was going through the community, Murder, Hodge-Podge Police System)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Gifted this entire work to Ellu because everytime I whine about not knowing what to do (all the ideas, none of the focus), Ellu helps me. Ta-da.

Bilbo Baggins, overworked Head Detective of the Criminal Investigations, groaned aloud at the fact that his desk was already piled high with paperwork when he had left the office yesterday with the desk clear.

“All right, who covered my desk?” he demanded, even as one of the freelance journalists (Ori Rivers) who hung around the tiny station of the Shire scurried up to him.

“Detective Baggins, do you have any comment on the recent burglary?” Ori asked eagerly and Bilbo stared at that eager face framed with a bowl cut and immediately said, “No comment.”

He then shut himself into his office and began to dig through everything while muttering, “How did everything suddenly become _my_ division?”

*~*~*

In reality, Bilbo knew how.

He became the Head Detective of Criminal Investigations and everyone knew that _anyone_ who took that job in the Shire was asking for a workload that wasn’t worth the pay. The Shire was large enough that they could run their own police department, as it were, but small enough that it was really just smushed together with anything and everything to do with the judicial system.

And they had no court.

Well, they had a courtroom, but it was mostly used to settle disputes with lawyers mostly keeping an eye on their clients as they shouted back and forth while the judge listened patiently till he decided what was owed to whom and so on and so forth.

(Bilbo Baggins himself had been dragged before the judge twice in the last month  _alone_ by Lobelia who kept trying to steal Bag-End, the large cottage at the top of the Hill that overlooked and Bilbo's strongest connection to his parents. Each time the judge had ruled in Bilbo's favor, even in the case of the silverware, though Bilbo did, in fact, know that silverware had started as Lobelia's but only he remembered that anymore and Bilbo wasn't inclined to change the judge's mind.)

But this meant that the Head of Criminal Investigations, or Bilbo, was the highest authority in all things and his signature was needed for everything, which meant many long years of reading and plodding around the Shire to get a look at things that left his, small, team of Investigators stumped.

They even had a Medical Examiner, though the most he had ever examined had been in league with the local small animal vet (large enough to have two specialized vets, and both did house calls for free), and over a dog found dead on the side of the road, glad to find that it had been cleared of rabies.

(In fact, the only reason the Medical Examiner had to perform an autopsy on the dog with the small animal vet was due to the fact that there was a rabies warning running through the county.)

In the end, however, the Shire was mostly the target of white collar crimes.

Well, sort-of.

Mostly, when people discovered that they were being conned, they talked about how gullible Lobelia was.

They just never mentioned that it was a long-standing joke of the Shire and they would usually come running to the police station to turn themselves in.

However, omitting Lobelia, everyone was pretty forgiving around the Shire and, once they got their money back, didn't press charges. Bilbo put a flag in their records, and let them go.

They usually disappeared after that, Lobelia having fully terrified them out of a life of crime, or they were caught further in the county, where they were less inclined to be so forgiving.

But no matter what, Bilbo signed off on reports, requisitions, and demands for more funding.

(That last one should have  _never_ been in his jurisdiction.)

*~*~*

“Nori!” Ori squealed loudly and Bilbo looked up from his tea and scones (and funding reports) to look across Dori’s tea shop to see a auburn haired man lifted Ori off the ground in a hug.

“Hey little brother! I see you got your journalism degree!” Nori stated, ruffling up Ori’s bowl cut.

“Yeah! I’m about to hunt down our Head of Criminal Investigations and get a comment on the recent burglaries! But after he’s had his tea. Dori says I’m not allowed to bother him within the confines of the tea shop,” Ori stated and Bilbo wondered if Dori would let him slip out the back.

“Ori…you’re twenty-two years old. You don’t have to listen what Dori says anymore,” Nori stated.

“Until I get my own place I do,” Ori stated.

“Or you could move in with me and then you could do what you want,” Nori responded.

“I don’t want to live in a hotel room,” Ori retorted and Bilbo managed not to snort in amusement, even as he spread some cream over his scones.

He’d have to find Dori later and give his congratulations on _almost_ getting Belladonna Baggins nee Took’s Scone and Clotted Cream Recipe right.

It was going to drive the silver-haired man into fits only his very patient lover, who he has still managed to keep secret from the rumor mill which was a feat within itself considering the energy source of the rumor mill lived with him.

(Ori was a smart little brat, and nosy on top of it and one day he was going to dig himself right into the lap of some underground agent of some sort and have a whirlwind romance that would send him back to the Shire in tears…not that Bilbo was projecting or anything.)

Nori sighed and Bilbo looked up, hiding his small frown as he really looked at Nori, even as the man protested that he was living in a flat over a flower shop (Widow Miriam Proudfoot, who was well known for being both a shrewd judge of character, yet a sucker for a sob story at the same time), and then he shoved at Ori. “Just go bother the man!” Nori stated, even as Ori stubbornly shook his head.

Bilbo sighed and checked his watch, frowning when he saw his lunch was coming to a close.

There were just not enough hours in the day to get everything done that he needed to get done and, if he didn’t fear having to post a sign in his office that said, ‘all said within is off the record,’ he’d hire Ori as his secretary.

Bilbo sighed again and wiped his mouth before he put his napkin on the table and picked up his file folders.

“Lovely as always Dori,” Bilbo stated as he walked up to the register, noticing the way Ori centered in on him like a panther on his prey.

Not the first time that’s happened during his long life and he turned the total over, plus tip, when he focused on Ori.

“No comment,” Bilbo stated and walked out with a smirk and a swish of his hips.

He had work to do and he couldn’t do it with Ori demanding his opinion.

*~*~*

Bilbo let out a low whistle of appreciation over the heist, eyes tracing how the burglar managed to copy his old calling card while still putting his, or her, own flair for it.

Small enough feet to be either.

He balanced on the balls of his feet and used a capped pen to lift the fishing line up. “Sir, are you finished admiring the burglar’s work?” Dwalin asked sharply and Bilbo didn’t even bother to glance over at him.

“No,” Bilbo responded, even as he followed it up to see where it had been connected to the door handle, for when the burglar made his escape to change the time of entry so the window would break.

Not how Bilbo would have done it, but close enough.

He happed to have used a diamond to cut through the glass and when he shut the door, had tapped it out, but a very good imitation.

Too bad it let the item in, but what had he used?

“He, or she, broke the glass second,” Bilbo mused.

“We have that in the report sir. This is the second burglary with this M.O. in the past week,” Dwalin stated.

“I know. Is it in the report that they tied the item up to the fishing line?” Bilbo asked, already trying to follow it to the end, when he noticed something dimly glint behind one of the pots.

“Inspector Oakenshield, could you come over here please?” Bilbo called, even as Dwalin came to hover over his shoulder while Bilbo leaned up to investigate the fishing wire that was over the curtain rod.

Being five foot was truly a curse in a world made for those half a foot taller.

At least he could always find clothes.

“What is it Detective?” Inspector Oakenshield greeted and Bilbo pointed with his pen to the faint glint by the pot.

“Get that for me?” Bilbo requested, even as Thorin lifted the camera (budget cuts were horrendous and made everyone use their hobbies professionally and Bilbo had never been more thankful for Thorin’s love of photography than the day he had to either cut the crime scene photographer’s hours or find a way to fold him into the judicial system of the Shire right as the original quit to retire to his house on the river) to take a picture before he leaned in to investigate what it was, though Bilbo suspected it was a fishing weight.

“It is a fishing weight,” Thorin stated and Bilbo’s eyes narrowed before he let his eyes follow the fishing wire.

“Can I move this door?” he questioned.

“Yes, sir,” they answered and Bilbo carefully pushed the door back to balance on the balls of his feet to stare at the carpet.

“That son of a bitch,” Bilbo cursed, hiding his amused smile behind his hand.

“What is it?” Dwalin asked while Thorin just leaned down to stare, before he swore and set a numbered card next to the fine glass shards in the carpet and took picture.

“He made a complex system set off by that fishing weight to break the glass, and he made a small hole in the glass to do it. The Bracegirdles and their desire to always be seen, yet never show off their own homes,” Bilbo stated and Dwalin gave a snort.

Both he and Thorin (and their families) were ‘out-of-towners’ who had moved after some scandal or another (a private investigator by the name of Saruman Blacktower had falsified evidence of Thorin being bribed and was paid to do so by Thorin’s rival, Azog Pit, and, despite being cleared, his reputation was forever tarnished and so he had packed up his sister, who had been in a wheelchair since she had been in the car accident caused by a drunk driver that had killed her husband, and his two nephews and moved, with his loyal friends, and cousins, Balin and Dwalin following shortly after) had destroyed Thorin’s old career.

Bilbo did not ask (he knew, but he did not ask), and instead had hired both into their ‘judicial force’ and explained how the titles were skewed in the Shire and they’d get the hang of it soon enough.

He’d only done enough of a background check (of all sorts, but really, Gandalf owed him that favor, and so did Radagast for that matter) to discover if they were really who they said they were and that had been it.

The other information had come from Bilbo’s own curiosity and him calling old contacts that would rather turn themselves into the police for racketeering than lie to Bilbo.

Oh, reputation was a good thing to have, especially amongst those of the shadow world.

“Why would he just drill a hole? Why not just wait till it got discovered in the morning?” Dwalin huffed.

“Because where is the fun in that?” Bilbo murmured as he stood up, stretching till his spine popped.

He then slipped the pen back into his coat pocket and turned to face the member of his judicial force who was there with them.

“What do you have Myrtle?” he asked and the auburn haired woman huffed even as she flipped open her pad.

“The moment Primrose Bracegirdle had come home, she heard the back window, here, breaking. She’s a Boffin at heart, but she had to attend because ever since Blanco died, Lobelia has been hauling her around to keep her from seeping in her sorrow,” Myrtle began and Bilbo nodded.

“No matter what else can be said about Lobelia, she is a loving daughter, in her own way, when push comes to shove. I take it she has already taken her mother to her home?” Bilbo cut in and Myrtle nodded, her hair bouncing around her face as she did so.

“Quite correct. And yelled at me for questioning her in the process. Anyway, she came back and the window broke, like it was planned, and she ran to the backyard, but no one was there,” Myrtle stated and Bilbo frowned a bit before he turned and began to head to the front door.

“Sir, I’m not finished,” Myrtle protested.

“Put it in a report,” Bilbo called over his shoulder as Thorin strode after him while Dwalin went to go keep his fiancée (not all whirlwind romances ended in tears, apparently) from killing Bilbo on the spot.

“What is it?” Thorin asked.

“Widow Bracegirdle, for all her oddities, is frighteningly accurate when it comes to remembering events as they were. She said ‘the window broke the moment she came home, as if planned.’ Well, what if it was? The burglar had no way of knowing when Primrose would come home, so…how did the burglar do that?” Bilbo questioned even as he pulled out a flashlight to shine about the still open doorway, when it gleamed.

“Ah,” Bilbo breathed and flicked his pen out to show off the fishing wire, which had snapped just like the rest of the counterpart.

“He,” Thorin began, even as Bilbo interrupted with a simple, “Or she.”

“Or she,” Thorin gritted out, “rigged the whole house.”

“Well, the downstairs, but yes. Quite ingenious and time consuming, and risky. They probably barely got away, so…I have a feeling the valuables of sentimental value will be showing up in our office within the week,” Bilbo stated, even as he scrubbed his hand through his hair.

“Why do you think that, sir?” Thorin asked in that long-suffering voice he had whenever he spoke with Bilbo a long time.

“Because, our burglar did this for the thrill of it, all the while copying the Sting,” Bilbo answered with a tiny shrug.

“You don’t think this is the Sting? The fishing wire everywhere suggests it is,” Thorin stated.

“Oh, I’m sure it is not the Sting,” Bilbo stated as he turned around to continue his investigation of the house.

Behind him, Thorin growled physically impossible things under his breath.

Bilbo decided to keep it from Thorin just a bit longer that he could hear him perfectly.

(Thorin’s face of complete and utter embarrassed rage would be well worth the wait. After all, what was two or so more years when he had been doing it for three already?)

*~*~*

“So, you’re the Head of Criminal Investigations?” Nori asked as he settled across from Bilbo as he went over requests for increased funding.

(Most would be rejected out of hand, but still, he had to read them all the way through before stamping them with ‘REJECTED’ in sparkly ink. It kept his sanity to have it sparkly, mostly because it annoyed the hell out of whoever got it and he could spread the irritation he felt around.)

“That is correct,” Bilbo answered.

“How long has that been?” Nori asked.

“Near on five years. Why are you so interested?” Bilbo asked.

“Curiosity about the place my brothers live in,” Nori answered.

“Well, soon Ori will be living out of hotel rooms, so oldest brother lives in,” Bilbo responded and he felt Nori start through the table.

“What?”

“Ori. He’s been working as a free-lance journalist since he returned, and he’s the best. He’s got five job offers from various spread out community members who have family members that run travel agencies. He just doesn’t want to work for anyone, so he’s saving up his money to travel the world. If he were going to stay, he’d have already moved out of Dori’s flat above the tea shop so that he could bother me during my lunch break, much as how you are doing and, on that note, my lunch break is nearly over, which means it is time for me to go,” Bilbo explained calmly, even as he closed up the funding folders.

He then wiped his mouth off and stood up, folders in one hand and setting napkin down on the table shortly after before he smiled at Nori.

“Though, that does raise my own questions of how you are getting _your_ money, Mister Rivers. Widow Proudfoot is not a woman who rents cheaply, especially as that flat is one of the nicer ones in the Shire, so I have to wonder where you are getting your money from, especially as that place has no internet, you aren’t in the library enough to use their internet for a job, you don’t get regular mail so you can’t own a mail-order business and you don’t work anywhere in the town and Dori has to work hand-to-mouth to make ends meet, and thus you are a great mystery,” Bilbo stated and Nori laughed a bit as he let his eyes trail suggestively up Bilbo’s frame.

Bilbo just raised an eyebrow and waited for Nori’s reply.

“Well, this really is the epitome of a small town,” Nori stated.

“Not really. I just keep my ear to the ground. Only three people know of Ori’s plans, four now with your inclusion. And Dori isn’t one of them,” Bilbo responded and turned on his heel to head to the cash register.

“I’m afraid my father’s lemon tart recipe is still safe Dori,” Bilbo stated with a laugh as he paid for his meal and then headed back to the office.

As he walked past the window, he noticed Nori staring out the window and Bilbo smiled before he winked cheekily at Nori, before he hurried to the office.

Dwalin was going to be spitting mad as it was upon finding he got a sparkly REJECTED stamped across his funding request for a better gun range.

(He really should talk to Hamfast about that, honestly. The man might be pleasantly surprised.)

*~*~*

“Fifth burglary, first with a casualty,” Thorin reported as Bilbo strode into the house.

“Oh,” Bilbo breathed out upon seeing the dead Mirabelle Whitewood on the floor of her living room.

“Has the next of kin been notified?” Bilbo asked.

“We can’t find any. And, as it turns out, her name wasn’t Mirabelle Whitewood, but Serena Forrest. We’re looking to see if that is a false name too, or if that is her real name. So far, all we can find out is that she’s an orphan,” Myrtle stated and Bilbo nodded and sighed as he crouched down to look at her, frowning when he saw the caked blood on her hair.

“Was she strangled or hit in the head?” Bilbo asked as he, when he glanced up and got a nod, reached out with his pen to push down the collar slightly of her turtleneck to reveal distorted bruising.

“The coroner will find out,” Dwalin stated.

Bilbo hummed and stood up, before he began to carefully walk around.

Everything had been photographed fully and he was in the clear to move about. He frowned as he found the glint of wire and knelt down, using his pen to lift it up. “It seems that, not only do we have eight accounts of breaking and entering, and burglary, for our Sting, but we also have one account of murder in the second-degree,” Thorin stated.

Bilbo ‘hmm’ed and answered, “Oh, I highly doubt that last charge, Inspector Oakenshield.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Thorin demanded.

“Because, this is piano wire, not fishing wire,” Bilbo stated, lifting it up higher to show the way it glinted in the light.

*~*~*

Bilbo hummed as he sat across from Nori Rivers in the interrogation room. “I didn’t kill anybody,” Nori stated.

“I know. No burglar worth their salt kills,” Bilbo answered, even when Balin told his client to be quiet.

Balin was a good sort and the best defense lawyer they had in all the Shire, and Bilbo thanked the Green Lady every day for the blessing that was Balin.

Nori just glared at Bilbo, even as he flipped through the papers. “Reasonable cause to search the premises. That and Widow Proudfoot gave us permission. Quite a bit of things you collected that aren’t yours Nori, though that does answer my question of where are you getting all of your money,” Bilbo stated and Nori remained stubbornly silent.

“Copying the Sting while giving your own flair to it was also a nice touch, very…occupying to see, as it were. Something for me to sink my teeth into. But you shouldn’t have tried to fence to the Gray Man. He owes me far too many favors,” Bilbo continued as he flipped to the last page, ignoring how both Nori and Balin were eyeing him.

“You think Sting came out of retirement to kill somebody?” Nori asked.

“Oh, no. Sting couldn’t have done it. As I said, any burglar worth their salt does not, in fact, kill. They have no need to. But, I do have to wonder who _you_ pissed off enough to frame. Or…who you pissed off enough to have them try to frame Ori and you move the things to your apartment in plain sight,” Bilbo answered and Nori shifted in his seat.

“Because…well, I had the lab run some tests on one of those items. Coated in charcoal. Artist’s charcoal. I’m sure if I pressed, they’d even say it was Ori’s, coating everything which would not only frame him for the robberies, but the murder at the same time, and get back at you, because Ori’s never left this town since he was five years old,” Bilbo stated as he shut the file and stared at Ori.

“So, was it Smaug Gold or Azog Pit?” Bilbo asked and Nori’s hands flinched.

“Oh, both. You have been busy,” Bilbo stated as he reopened the file folder while Balin sighed.

“Bilbo,” he warned, but Bilbo shrugged.

“He didn’t kill her because it was the wrong type of wire. I knew keeping the type of wire out of the papers would be helpful and the type of wire even more so,” Bilbo explained and he looked up as the door opened, Thorin stepping in.

“Her real name is Serena Forrest. She’s sister to Tauriel Forrest, and cousin to Legolas Greenleaf. She’s been missing for about two years, or as long as she’s lived here. She disappeared on them with only a note apologizing and saying good-bye. Why she ran, I don’t know, but we’re looking into it,” Thorin stated.

“She saw something she shouldn’t have. They’re trying to get revenge on Nori here, and were going to do it and the only reason we got anything at all is because he’s basically flipping their plans over, but as you would have thrown both Azog and Smaug into prison the moment you saw them, I have to wonder who they have here that is new who is their plant so they could do this,” Bilbo retorted calmly as he flipped idly through the report of the crime scene.

 “One day, you are going to be wrong and I am going to laugh,” Thorin stated.

“Thorin, the day I am wrong is the day I retire. Well, let’s go Mister Rivers. Have to make it look like you are being arrested for murder and whatnot,” Bilbo stated and Nori huffed.

“For what reason?” Nori asked.

Bilbo smiled and he knew it was not nice, because Nori became carefully blank in response to it. “Because I do not like it when people hurt those I care for, let alone try it, and I happen to care for everyone in this town I know. Which included Serena aka Mirabelle, and _still_ includes Ori and even _you_ , for all that you fail at flirting with me,” Bilbo answered as he hauled Nori to his feet.

“I never flirted with you. Pumped you for information, yes, flirted no,” Nori stated.

“I consider that flirting and you still failed. Like I would have told you Ori’s plans if I hadn’t wanted you to know,” Bilbo responded cheerfully as he took Nori to the cells, a mask of cold rage that had his inspectors scattering before them.

*~*~*

Smegol Rine, aka Gollum an assassin for hire, was caught two days later trying to get to Nori to keep him quiet.

He never spilled, but his rented cabin by the river gave them the needed information to send both Smaug and Azog to prison, unless their high-priced lawyers wrangled them out of it.

In the end, they had only circumstantial evidence against Nori for the burglaries, but they did stop after Nori was released, leaving everyone, in the grand scheme of things, to believe that Nori had pissed someone off in the big city (and thus the residents of the Shire had yet another reason not to travel outside of the Shire), and it was left well enough alone by all except one.

(Well, two, but Lobelia was never one to let _anything_ go.)

“How did you know?” Nori asked as he sat across from Bilbo at the solitary tavern in the Shire.

Bilbo smiled as he turned his tankard around so he could hold it with his left hand while he focused on Nori. “Know what?” he asked.

“Know I didn’t kill her,” Nori hissed out.

“Wrong type of wire. That and no burglar worth their salt has to kill anyone. It goes against the moral code, as it were,” Bilbo responded calmly as he took a sip from his tankard.

He did prefer darker beers, but ale was good on occasion.

Besides, he made it a policy to never turn down a free drink.

“No one is that certain over wire,” Nori hissed.

“Wrong M.O.,” Bilbo stated.

“Again, not enough,” Nori stated.

“Because you were copying the Sting and the Sting never killed anyone. Since you were mimicking him, or her, you didn’t want to do anything to sully the name Sting left behind where the only ones hurt were the insurance companies. You never would have gone into that house if she was there and due to the fact that Serena was always home, except for two hours every Saturday which is not enough time, and she lived in a place that wasn’t exactly in the best place, though everywhere is nice, she was never on your list to begin with. I am sure the only reason Bag-End wasn’t hit was due to the fact everything in there is sentimental over monetary value,” Bilbo explained.

“How would you know any of that?” Nori demanded.

“I told you. I keep my ear to the ground,” Bilbo answered.

“Oh?”

“Yes. And ‘The Sting Coming Back to Life’ is of certain note. The fact the new Sting’s spree started here a week after you arrived is, of course, coincidence,” Bilbo responded idly.

“And how would you know I am not the original?” Nori questioned and Bilbo smiled as he leaned on his hands as he answered, “Because I am thoroughly flattered.”

He then stood and left, his bag over his shoulder as he left Nori to ponder his words.

*~*~*

Being pulled into an alley on the way to work to be kissed near-senseless by a burglar-turned-security system tester three months after leaving him in the bar to ponder his words was a wonderful surprise.

After Bilbo calmed down enough to realize the man he floored was Nori Rivers at least.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know how the police force works.
> 
> The Shire is a hodge-podge because they are. Their structure makes no sense to anyone not born to it, but they can pull off actual one they should have at a drop of a hat, if need be.
> 
> They like their system, and it isn't supposed to make sense to outsiders.


	10. Time Travel (Mature, Gen, but pairings can be seen, Alternate Canon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has always been able to do what he does. He got it from his father, who got it from his father and so on and so forth.
> 
> He just never had to use it as much as he did during this Quest.
> 
> (Violence, Shattering Bones, Near-Death)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I went sideways on this prompt.
> 
> Oh well.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.

Bilbo Baggins had been told by his Father, when he was a child, that his ability was a special one, and one he must guard with all his heart, for if anyone knew about it, it would awaken greed within their hearts.

Bilbo had taken that to heart, especially as he could only move himself and, really, what was the use of that?

He had used it rarely, however, when he realized that only moving himself did wonders. He fine-tuned it till he could do things on a hairpin turn and he learned how to make it seem like, to others, he just appeared out of thin air when really he twisted time around him to suit his needs.

It was his ability and his alone, in a way.

He knew his father could do it, for he was the one who taught him, but he was not nearly as powerful or as finely tuned as Bilbo, who easily shifted through time as if he was merely moving water from one bucket to another.

But the first time Bilbo had used his ability to go through time to help someone instead of just using it to play pranks it was during the Fell Winter.

It was when the Brandywine froze over and the White Wolves came with Orcs. It was when they howled and shrieked, crying for blood and Bilbo had been out and had seen. He had seen the rotten bully who always tormented him get torn down.

And Bilbo could not let that happen, so he twisted time and when the other tween told the story as Bilbo panted for air, he would swear that Bilbo just seemed to slip out of the very air, catching the White Wolf’s jaws with his body.

He would bear the scars across his upper arm and chest, and upper back, all his life.

The second time was shortly after coming of age to catch a Hobbit girl as she fell from an apple tree so her parents would not have to choose between getting their daughter’s arm set or having food for the week.

(They chose their daughter, the first time around, but Bilbo would have done it even if they picked food, because both are harsh choices.)

The third, and final (beyond practice), time Bilbo used it was to spend more time with his mother as her soul passed from this world.

And then…well, there was nothing left.

He was respectable and that was all there was to it.

And then Gandalf the Grey brought thirteen Dwarves into his life.

*~*~*

The Dwarves would swear, later, that he ran down the tree.

Bilbo hadn’t, but he let them believe as much.

They would swear many things, to explain how he moved, and Bilbo would let them believe it.

After all, it kept his secret.

But then the Men and Elves came outfitted for war and desperation drove Thorin further and further into madness. What once could have ended peacefully now threatened to bathe the field in bloodshed.

Bilbo could see everything Thorin had dreamed of falling apart before his very eyes. He watched as everything that they had fought for, everything they had dreamed and nearly died for, crumbled to dust and so Bilbo took the Arkenstone and he ran.

He bartered it for his friends’ lives and then he returned to them.

Returned to be cut off from them, threatened and declared traitor. To be dangled over the wall and know he could disappear to them, go back in time long enough to escape, and he just holds on for dear life, pleading with Thorin to understand, but desperate, mad, Thorin doesn’t.

He can’t.

He’s been driven beyond reaching and Bilbo, once in the heart of the camp of the Elves and Men, sobs his heart into the pillow and almost wishes to undo all that he’s done, but knows that will solve nothing.

The Arkenstone will just appear in the camp, and Thorin will turn on the others and Bilbo can’t allow that.

And then the cry that an Army of Orcs, Goblins, and Wargs is marching upon them.

*~*~*

Preparing for war is wild and chaotic while being tame and orderly at the same time.

Bilbo doesn’t understand it, because he’s a simple Hobbit from the Shire, but he understands he has no place here, amongst the running warriors and hardened Lake-Men.

He watches them all calmly, eyes searching and seeing faults and knows the Orcs and Goblins and Wargs will crash into these faults till they shatter and in that moment, he knows that that is what war is.

It is not like how his books say it is, but is, in fact, something horrible and twisted, where you go into battle knowing your weaknesses and knowing your friends would fall around you and that you might join them.

And Bilbo realized then and there he could not leave his friends to die.

*~*~*

Bilbo twisted time at leisure around him, leaping and twisting through people and thankful for Thorin’s gift of mithril mail, though any hits left him winded.

And he was noticing the _lack_ of armor in certain places, such as his neck and head.

Oh, and the fact that the armor, while light, was not meant to fit a Hobbit, so it kept sliding down to reveal things like his collar bone.

But he twisted and turned, ignoring the slight burn that came from an arrow (Elf, Dwarf, Orc, or Man Bilbo couldn’t say) slicing across his cheek, dangerously close to his eye, and then he was off again.

In time to see Azog raise his mace for a killing blow against Kíli who stood alone against him.

Bilbo did not hesitate to twist time around him.

*~*~*

Kíli scrambled back, sword in his off-hand, the right severely broken, even as he swung to parry Azog’s swing, knowing that this too would snap his arm like a twig.

Except that the blow never hit him.

Instead it crashed into Bilbo, who was suddenly there, the cracking of bones echoing and Kíli stared, even as Thorin twisted around to behead Azog, the Pale Orc collapsing and his son falling, but Kíli wasn’t paying attention to that.

He was kneeling down next to a broken Bilbo Baggins who was trying to keep breathing. Even over the noise of the battle, Kíli could hear the liquid sloshing in Bilbo’s lungs with every breath and Kíli leaned over. “Why…we abandoned you,” Kíli whispered out, scared to touch Bilbo.

“Because you’re my family. And I couldn’t let you fall,” Bilbo gasped out, and Kíli sensed Fíli over actually seeing his older brother.

“Master Baggins, it seems you are always meant to surprise me,” Thorin stated, but Kíli is trying to find a place he can touch Bilbo at, but there is nothing.

He’s bleeding and broken and it is all their fault.

They should have never gone to his door.

*~*~*

Bilbo is moved onto a litter, when they can spare one, and it is called a miracle that he’s still breathing, though each breath gets shallower and wetter.

When Thranduil approaches, the Dwarves are ready to fight him.

They aren’t expecting him to say, “I can save him.”

The price is nothing, for it turns out Bilbo saved his life.

His words of warning do little to calm them down.

“It will not be pleasant to listen to.”

*~*~*

The popping and crackling of bones being forced back into place, followed by wet, choking, screams, have the Dwarves on edge till they are forced away by duty or just the inability to sit there.

All but one.

Óin waits patiently outside of the tent until Thranduil’s healers step out. The head healer nods once and Óin enters, grabbing up his ear horn to listen to Bilbo’s breathing. He ignores the healer, but is careful, but he settles next to Bilbo’s bed.

He thanks the air, for the Elf Healer is already gone, and he waits.

Bilbo is pale from blood loss (internal) and trembling slightly under blankets, but he will live, Elven magic doing what Dwarf know-how could not.

Now, seeing the Hobbit, he relaxes and waits for Bilbo to wake.

(He does three days later, shuddering and shaking, but smiling. The only thing he says that makes it out past chattering teeth is, “My family.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is Hogwarts AU.
> 
> ...I'm having issues with Houses, mostly because I want the Dwarves in more than Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, both of which are Houses in the same vein of what they look for, in a manner of speaking.
> 
> Mostly because Balin is either a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw and I don't know which.
> 
> Fili and Kili are definitely ones I want to have in different Houses, but I can't decide of Kili is really as silly as he acts or if it is a front (Slytherin) so he can learn more (Slytherin and Ravenclaw), etc. I really don't want them in the same House, mostly for my own amusement. Fili is very calm and collected, by loyal and brave (Hufflepuff and Gryffindor), and I honestly wonder if I should make Kili Slytherin and Fili Gryffindor for my own twisted amusement.
> 
> I have no clue where Oin is going to go and I am trying to figure out if the entire Company is going to be in Hogwarts anyway.
> 
> Also, Bofur seems too manipulative to be Hufflepuff, and he is definitely in line with Gryffindor, but he's someone I can see getting even instead of letting go, but pretending to do so (most of which lands him as a very cheerful Slytherin), so I am leaning towards Slytherin for kicks and giggles, with Bombur as Hufflepuff with Dori and Bifur as another Gryffindor.
> 
> And Bilbo is equally Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but I am leaning towards Ravenclaw for reasons.
> 
> On that note...the Hogwarts AU is probably going to be late as I hash everything out. I will update it and every missed day probably all at once.
> 
> I apologize in advanced.


	11. Hogwarts/Harry Potterverse (Mature, "Human" AU, Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has always known he was going to go to Hogwarts.
> 
> He just used to wish he wouldn't.
> 
> (Explicit Pure-Blood Supremacist Talk)

Bilbo Baggins had always known he would be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for two reasons.

The first reason was due to the fact that Bilbo had _always_ had extremely powerful accidental magic. At two he had blasted out all the glass from the windowpanes and cracked the green door of Bag-End in half during a temper tantrum.

(It was after the Incident, as it grew to be called within the Shire, that his mother owled an old family friend, Gandalf Greyhame, and he came with exercises Bilbo could do for control, otherwise Bilbo would accidentally destroy Bag-End.)

The second was that both of the Family’s Bilbo was descended from (the Took Family and the Baggins Family) had gone to Hogwarts since it’s foundation.

Though, they were vastly different from each other, though not as extremely in Houses as one would think right off the bat.

While the Baggins Family was proud to say that they had produced some of the finest Hufflepuffs of this age, the Tooks were equally proud to say they hailed from Gryffindor, one and all. However, despite having such prestigious Families to his name, one caused him endless amounts of bullying and disdain (Took) due to the antiquated ideas of Blood Purity that still curled through the Shire, and labeled Bilbo as the only Half-Blood in all of Hobbiton, where Bag-End was located.

The other Families of Hobbiton, and Lobelia of the Hobbiton Bracegirdles in particular, delighted in reminding him that he would never fit in and he would never find anyone within the Shire that would want to marry him and sully _their_ blood with his.

Luckily, for Lobelia, Bilbo had grand control over his accidental magic.

Unlucky for some cheap pottery his mother and father bought in abundance for stress relief, however, as he would destroy them all once he got back home.

Then his mother would hold him close as he sobbed and clutched at her, wondering what was so bad about the grandmother he had never met being a Muggle anyway.

But when the time came, he got his letter, and his father was calmly whisking him away to Diagon Alley while his mother went to work for the Ministry (Werewolf Relations and Registry, which she was very busy with due to the fact the Werewolves preferred to talk to her), though she showed her proper excitement with a pancake breakfast before she left.

Once at Diagon Alley, they got Bilbo’s textbooks (and some additional books that were on order for them both), his potion gear (with the agreement to get the ingredients closer to September 1st and he could use his father’s with supervision if he wished to practice beforehand), and ate lunch at the Leaky Cauldron before they headed to Ollivander’s.

It was rumored that Ollivander had gone through every major event in recent Wizarding World history, and Bilbo hesitated upon the doorway. “Bilbo, it’s all right. He can be a bit startling, but he’s a good Wizard, I promise,” Bungo stated and Bilbo stared up at him before he nodded in agreement, though his legs would not unlock.

“Tell you what. After this, we’ll go to the Magical Menagerie, all right?” Bungo responded and Bilbo nodded again.

He smiled and ruffled his son’s hair before he stood up normally and entered the dim shop.

“Bungo Baggins, elder wood, dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inches, surprisingly springy. I never thought I’d see that wand be happily united with anyone, but I am glad to see that that was not the case. You married Bella Took, did you not?” a man, silver-haired asked as he loomed out of the shadows, sending Bilbo scurrying behind his father.

“Correct on both accounts Mr. Ollivander,” Bungo answered even as he tried to get Bilbo to come out from hiding.

“Bella…Bella Took, Baggins now…rowan wood, dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inches. I have never seen wands more destined to meet than yours. Elder has always wished to go to rowan, and visa-versa, drawn to each other and perfectly balanced. Ironic, truly, for elder usually prefers to attack and rowan to defend, yet you two were opposite of each other in that regard, if I recall the Hogwarts Dueling Competition in Seventh Year about seventeen years ago now correctly. Couples as I remember. You two swept the competition,” Mr. Ollivander continued.

“I had not realized you were in attendance Mr. Ollivander,” Bungo answered, even as he tried to encourage Bilbo forward.

“My granddaughter of some distance was in the singles. Ash, phoenix feather, nine and three-quarter inches,” Ollivander mused and then he focused on Bilbo.

“And who is this?” he inquired and Bungo smiled as he finally encouraged Bilbo out from hiding behind him.

“This is Bilbo. Mine and Bella’s son,” Bungo introduced.

Ollivander smiled and nodded. “Well, young Bilbo, which is your wand hand?” he asked.

*~*~*

Wands were settled on the chair and Bilbo eyed them with trepidation before he turned to his father while Ollivander excitedly rushed from shelf to shelf, some wands being held for a time, others being taken from him before Bilbo really had a chance to even _touch_ them let alone _hold_ them.

“Don’t worry. This happens,” his father reassured gently, even as Ollivander removed a wand from under the counter.

He stared at it before he looked up at Bilbo. “Try this,” Ollivander stated and Bilbo hesitated before he reached out to gently taking the wand.

He started slightly as he felt warmth travel through his entire body and, for a moment, Bilbo thought he was levitating before he was staring up at Ollivander who was smiling brightly at him. “Larch wood, phoenix feather, eleven inches, and this wand has been here in this shop for many years,” Ollivander stated and Bilbo blinked up at him.

“Why?” he asked softly.

“This wand is the last wand my grandfather ever crafted. I hid it away when I discovered that just letting _anyone_ handle this wand has led to many an undesirable response. I had no desire to replace that window for a third time, nor my shelves,” he explained and Bilbo’s hand tightened on his wand before he stared down at it, trembling slightly.

“Now, now, young Bilbo, nothing to be afraid of. Larch has always been desired for its beauty, but no one seems to understand larch is fickle and more so when with a phoenix feather core. It does not just chose anyone and those it does chose well…they always seem to surprise all who know them,” Ollivander stated and Bilbo practically hugged the wand to his chest.

He never asked the question he wished of ‘why me.’

Instead, he just let Ollivander place the wand back into its box as his father paid for it.

Magical Menagerie was next and Bilbo would prefer to leave the dim shop where a wand that supposedly brought out unexpected things in their wielders.

He shuddered as they stepped out into the sun.

*~*~*

Bilbo laughed as a brown with tan flecked Kneazle with the lion puff tail purred while nuzzling himself up and under Bilbo’s chin. “I’ve never seen Myrtle take to anyone so quickly,” the shop-keeper mused and Bilbo laughed as Myrtle nudged his chin with her nose.

“Bilbo is just that way. How much is she?” Bungo answered.

“Myrtle is a full-blooded Kneazle, so I’ll need a permit,” the shopkeeper stated, even as Bungo produced one.

Money was exchanged shortly after and Bilbo smiled as Myrtle settled happily against Bilbo’s chest, purring like a Muggle car engine.

This was going to be a good first year, Bilbo just knew it.

*~*~*

“I am going to be miserable, have no friends, and have to learn how to fend for myself out in the Forbidden Forest,” Bilbo stated as he stared at the Hogwarts Express.

“Nonsense dear! You’ll be fine! You’ll make lots of new friends,” Belladonna started.

“My first friends, as cousins required to hang out with me do not count,” Bilbo retorted and Belladonna sighed.

“Very well. You’ll make your first friends, go on many adventures, and lose lots of House Points and regain favor by winning them back! And you’ll write to your poor old mother about it all the time, see?” she cheered and Bilbo sighed.

“I won’t get into any adventures, I don’t _want_ to get into any adventures, I’ll be quite happy not having _any_ adventures,” Bilbo responded calmly.

“Oh, dear, where’s the fun in Hogwarts if you don’t have adventures?” Belladonna asked.

“Love, I didn’t have adventures and I had a perfectly marvelous time,” Bungo answered.

“Oh, yes you did have adventures! Sneaking into the kitchens, sneaking outside to go star gazing, dating me! See? All sorts of adventures!” Belladonna teased, leaning into to give her husband a kiss while Bilbo looked away.

Mother always said it was best not to flaunt their wealth, but at the same time, Bilbo needed a place for all his books, so he got his mother’s old trunk. Said ‘old trunk’ was one of those with multiple compartments, though his only had four (clothes, books, quills & parchment, and Kneazle supplies for Myrtle, respectively).

The lid had originally been emblazed with the Gryffindor symbol, but his mother had charmed it off to instead rest next to the Hufflepuff symbol emblazed on his father’s old trunk, since they shared it, and set a charm onto Bilbo’s trunk to immediately gain the symbol of his new House upon Sorting.

“Now, ignore all those that say you should go into such House because of your Family name! Think about it! You could be the first Baggins in Gryffindor!” Belladonna teased and Bilbo resisted the urge to frown.

He honestly didn’t think he was Gryffindor material. He had met the Tooks and he was nothing like them, not even when he went adventuring.

“Now, now love, he could easily go into Hufflepuff and be the first Took ever to do so,” Bungo reminded her and Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh.

He also knew he would go into one or the other, because that was just how it was going to work.

Well, at least in Hufflepuff he’d get friends.

Belladonna seemed to notice his thoughts, for she suddenly swooped down and began to press kisses all over his face, drawing laughter from him as he tried to push her off, though he did so with no real heat or heart in it. “Bella, you’ll embarrass him,” Bungo stated.

“Oh, tuft and nonsense! Any boy who gets embarrassed by his mother deserves to be embarrassed!” Belladonna stated, before she gave Bilbo another hug and then stood up normally.

Bungo sighed and ruffled Bilbo’s hair before he knelt down to hug him. “You do know that we will be proud of you, no matter what, right?” he asked.

“Unless you turn into a Dark Lord. That not so much,” Belladonna corrected and Bungo sighed.

“Bilbo’s not that ambitious love,” Bungo stated and released Bilbo.

“Avoid Lobelia as best you can,” Belladonna advised and Bilbo nodded.

They stood in silence till the whistle blew. “Well, let’s hurry up and get you on-board, or the train will leave without you,” Belladonna stated and gently scooted Bilbo toward the train.

He went hesitantly, hauling his trunk in until he found a compartment that was empty. He managed to get the trunk up top while leaving Myrtle, still in her carrier, on the seat. Once settled he pushed down the window and leaned out to wave at his parents, only to hesitate when he saw a family toward the front.

Three possible brothers were standing there, their possible parents standing to the side with slightly frightened looks on their faces.

The eldest of the brother, however, was a nervous looking silvery-auburn haired teen who was fussing over the youngest, who had brown hair, while an auburn haired boy about Bilbo’s age rolled his eyes at the silvery-haired one.

“Dori, he’s not going to fall over dead the moment you stop fussing! Let him _breath_ for Merlin’s sake!” the middle one snapped.

Dori sighed and dropped his hands to turn to face the boy who snapped, and sighed. “Nori, just because I fuss doesn’t mean I expect him to die!” Dori protested, one of his hands curling into a fist.

“Dori!” the mother snapped, edging on panic, and Dori immediately stepped away, the youngest boy slipping up to hold onto his brother’s wrist.

“Now, Nori,” the mother began, reaching out for him, but Nori immediately pulled away.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

Before Bilbo could continue watching he felt someone tap his hand and he looked down to find Belladonna smiling up at him, with Bungo trying to hide his smile.

“Sorry Mum, and Dad. I’ll write back tomorrow when you send me a letter during breakfast with Juniper,” he stated and she smiled squeezing his hand while Bungo nodded.

“We wouldn’t want it any other way, Bilbo. Do your best,” Bungo responded and they smiled and waved as the Hogwarts Express tooted warningly.

Bilbo immediately retreated into the compartment and slid the window closed.

Only then did he open up Myrtle’s carrier and put it under the seat before he sat down, Myrtle soon settling on his lap, purring happily the entire time.

They had only been travelling for a few minutes when the compartment door opened to reveal a wild looking teen with the Hufflepuff crest on his robes while a cheerful looking boy Bilbo’s age looked over his shoulder. “Oh, hello! I’m Bofur and this is my cousin, Bifur. Can we join you?” Bofur asked and Bilbo nodded as Myrtle shifted to eye them, her lion puffed tail swishing through the air.

“Thank you!” Bofur stated, even as he pushed his cousin in before him, the taller teen easily going, though he sat down next to Bilbo.

Myrtle sniffed at Bifur before flopping back into Bilbo’s lap, content to ignore them. “She’s a stand-offish little cat isn’t she?” Bofur asked, leaning forward to pet her, only to start back when Myrtle hissed at him.

Bilbo choked back his laugh and smiled before he scratched Myrtle behind the ears. “She’s a full-blooded Kneazle. They’re more intelligent, and pickier, than Muggle cats, though my mother has a pair of a Siamese. She didn’t particularly like them and hid in my room or outside to avoid them,” Bilbo explained.

“What’s a Kneazle?” Bofur asked, even as Bifur began to try and entice Myrtle’s attention.

“Oh. A Kneazle is a type of Wizarding cat, as it were. They are highly intelligent and have the innate ability to sense those who are untrustworthy, becoming highly aggressive and vicious towards them, particularly if they feel like the one they’ve bonded with is being threatened by the one who is untrustworthy. Thus, unless mixed with a Muggle breed of cat, they require a permit to have,” Bilbo explained, and Bifur started to remove his hand.

“No, she likes you. She’s just insulted over being called stand-offish,” Bilbo reassured calmly, even as he scooped her up so she was cradled in his arms.

She ‘mreowed’ up at him and batted at Bilbo’s curls once more. She then twisted to bat at Bifur’s sleeve before she moved to grab at the tie instead, working it out of the robe to play with it.

“As I said, she’s highly intelligent. She’ll go after your hair next if she doesn’t think you get it,” Bilbo stated and then turned to Bofur, who was eyeing Myrtle when the compartment door was thrown open and Nori rushed in, collapsing against the wall, panting.

“Save me from over-protective big brothers,” he muttered and started a bit when he saw three people staring at him before he perked up upon seeing Bofur.

“Bofur! Hey! We were talking about Houses, weren’t we?” Nori asked.

“Yeah. Bifur’s in Hufflepuff. I’m thinkin’ I’ll be with him,” Bofur stated and Bilbo looked over at that.

“Hufflepuff’s good. Ignore anyone who says that is the leftover House. I personally think they are the reason the school is still standing to be honest,” Nori stated and Bilbo smiled.

“Mother would agree,” Bilbo stated.

“Your mom was a Hufflepuff?” Nori asked.

“No, Gryffindor. My father was the Hufflepuff, but she says if the majority is anything like him, they’re why the school is still around. He’s very down to earth,” Bilbo stated and Nori nodded while Myrtle twisted around so she could make her way back into Bilbo’s lap.

Nori grinned and soon they were all talking, except Bifur, who would gesture to Bofur, who would then translate.

As night began to fall, Nori looked to Bilbo, who had managed to change into clean robes after encouraging Myrtle back into her carrier.

“So…Bilbo, what do you think of Hogwarts?” Bofur asked and Bilbo looked over at him before he smiled.

“I think it’s going to be…fantastic,” Bilbo answered warmly as the train screeched to a stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this will eventually become a much more involved series, which focuses mainly on Bilbo, with side-steps into the rest of the Company.
> 
> I have a thing. Not a great thing, in my opinion, but a thing.


	12. Runaways/Homeless (Mature, Complete Alternate Universe, Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug wanted the gold and traitors wanted the mountain and Smaug is not so Melkor-bent and decimating everything when the idea of getting more is dangled in front of him.
> 
> (So Much Death, Imprisonment, Minor Torture, Non-Sexual Collaring)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went so sideways with this prompt it isn't even funny.
> 
> I tried though.
> 
> That counts, right?

When Smaug came to Erebor, it was different.

He had come under a different manner, to Dwarves, traitors, who wanted power and a Dragon who wanted gold. He was willing to part with the silver and lesser metals in exchange for the gold and the treasury, to be the greatest of all deterrents against retaliation.

And it worked.

_Thrór was killed under the Arkenstone in Open Court, and that was the start._

From there the slaughter started and Smaug came, more than happy to speed it along.

Thorin barely saved his sister, Dís, in time from the Dragon’s Warth.

Turned out into the world, homeless and without any place to go, with a King slowly growing mad with grief, we were met with an army of Men who aligned with the traitors, prepared to slaughter those who ran, forcing them to turn.

Few survived that day, and all had rallied around a Dwarfling King, Thorin son of Thráin, the Disappeared King.

Thorin Oakenshield, who was a child and fought like a grown Dwarf.

Thorin Oakenshield who rallied the displaced people and led them away to safety.

Who was turned away at the edges of Mirkwood by those who aligned with the traitors, but said it was by order of the King.

The Elvenking Thranduil who was distracted by a Dark Sorcerer within his borders and spiders the size of draft horses, but Thorin believed the Elves and led the Dwarves through the river, losing more, but fighting all the same for survival, the world narrowing to the need to be hard and cold as the Arkenstone that dimly glowed above the throne.

For its light had dimmed with the attack, though none noticed, all content with things the way they were.

And then the traitors’ eyes turned Westward.

*~*~*

An Army was raised that could hide under the wings of a dragon and none stood before them. Rivendell became a safe haven, for the power in the stones and in the Elves there kept it safe, but they could not leave it to help others.

The Dwarves that survived Erebor were forced to retreat further and further till they settled in the Blue Mountains.

All of Arda was gripped in terror of a dark and sinister army that resided in Erebor marched. They marched on, with dragonfire lighting their way until they made it all the way to the peaceful Shire.

There, the dragon burned everything till it was twisted and black and the smoke stretched for miles.

And during that time, however, Smaug was challenged to a game of riddles.

Curious and entranced that something so small would challenge him, he looked the small creature in the eye and demanded to know why he would agree to such a game.

The small creature had said that then the Dragon could prove not only that he was greater than them in might, but in wit, and so the battle began.

They fought long and hard, but in the end, the Hobbit lost.

But his aim had never been to win, but to give the Hobbits still living time to run to Rivendell, led by the Tooks.

The Dragon, enraged by being tricked, nearly killed the small, young, Hobbit then and there, but stayed his fire when he realized there were worse things than death for the creature that faced death without flinching.

“Tell me, little Thief, how will it feel to be locked up in a cage within my treasury?” Smaug had asked and then snatched the Hobbit up and took to the sky.

The Army retreated to the Lonely Mountain, with slaves to send into the mines and land taken to be worked by knowledge people…and one Hobbit who stayed in the treasury within a golden cage.

*~*~*

Bilbo Baggins had just barely the initial wave, but that could be said for all the Hobbits that managed to survive.

When the Dragon circled above, Bilbo remembered the tales his mother had told him about dragons and had done his best.

It had been enough, but the price was high.

A cage of gold and gems was made for him and stuffed to be comfortable, hanging from something that had once been used for a chandelier. It was lowered twice a day so he could use the nearest water closet, a chain connected to his collar carefully measured to do so.

But a week in the dark of a mountain with no sun or wind or sky was draining on him.

A slow death cut off from the Green Lady and the Star Kindler, but the hesitant attempts to help from the Stone King was what made the death take so long.

Smaug took notice immediately. “Are they poisoning you?” Smaug demanded.

Bilbo shook his head.

“Are they giving you rabbit meat?” Smaug demanded and Bilbo shook his head again.

Smaug snarled and pulled back. “Then why do you smell of slow death?” he demanded.

“I need sun and sky and wind, oh Great Smaug. And inside a mountain, I have none,” Bilbo stated and Smaug hissed before he lowered his head.

He seemed to be deep in thought and then he eyed Bilbo.

With that, he dove into his gold coins and gems and continued to look about until he suddenly appeared holding a chest in his mouth. He dropped it and then turned to the doorway.

“Get the escort guards in here, now!” Smaug demanded.

*~*~*

The box had held the shackles for political prisoners, golden things that were heavy and painful to wear.

Bilbo was clapped into them before he was dragged outside, where the sun was a thin, sickly thing in the sky and the breeze smelled of stale death.

But deep in the ground, slumbering, was life, and the escort Dwarves watched in shock as Bilbo seemed to become healthier.

When Smaug swooped out, wondering what was taking his guards so long to return with the Hobbit, it was to the discovery that Bilbo looked like living treasure, even within the weak sun. “Wait till spring little Thief,” Smaug promised and Bilbo just stared up at him in confusion.

*~*~*

It became a regular thing, going into the sun to sit calmly and gain back the shine that caused Smaug to call him ‘my Thief’ with such possessiveness, Bilbo often wondered that, if Smaug could, Smaug would keep him forever in this cage.

His guards kept their guard up when outside, for a being of the outside world would never be able to make their way through a mountain and relaxed the moment they stepped back into the depths.

But gold is soft and malleable and they didn’t stand a chance when Bilbo suddenly twisted right out of his bonds and disappeared into the shadows.

The Dwarves scattered and Smaug roared over them losing _his_ Thief, but Bilbo was long gone.

It wouldn’t be till much later that they would learn that the Arkenstone was gone as well.

*~*~*

Thorin snarled and threw the Men off of him as Dwalin roared the battle cry of the Dwarves.

Hidden as a drunken brawl, assassins were trying to kill Thorin. They had met their match in either Thorin or Dwalin’s blades.

“Thorin!” Dwalin cried, the warning obvious, but before Thorin could turn to parry with a sword he had taken from a Troll’s Hoard (he and his Company had accidentally stumbled upon them and someone had distracted them till dawn in the heart of summer), when a small form darted through, upsetting the Man before it disappeared into the shadows.

Thorin didn’t hesitate to dispatch of the Man and glared at the shadows. “Come out, now,” Thorin demanded as he stormed toward the shadows.

He wasn’t expected the form to come blasting out, upsetting his balance before he twisted around, heading straight for a wall.

“Dwalin, catch him,” Thorin ordered and Dwalin reached, just as the small figure twisted and was running down the alleyway.

He didn’t get much farther as Nori plucked him right off the ground and the small figure was revealed to be a Halfling, a Hobbit, not even four feet tall.

“Please let me go! I didn’t do…” he began to protest only to fall silent as he was dropped before Thorin.

He was dirty and wore clothes that were in heavily patched, but had once been quite fine. But the thing that really got Thorin was the fact he wore a scarf wrapped tight around his neck and Thorin reached for it, even as the Hobbit scrambled back.

“No, no, I didn’t, I’m not…I’m just a Hobbit!” he protested.

“Hobbits don’t leave Rivendell,” Nori stated.

“All but one, yes. I’ve never _been_ to Rivendell, thus I can’t have left, now could I?” the Hobbit snapped, but him being distracted (he’s thinner than any Hobbit Thorin has ever seen, dirty and worn as well) is enough to have Thorin hauling him up to remove the scarf, because it is obviously hiding something.

“No, no, please,” the Hobbit begged, but Thorin has already revealed the tarnished gold plated collar he was wearing, the sapphires framing the loops marking it as one of the collars for the indentured servants of the Royal Family.

“How did you get this?” Thorin asked.

The Hobbit trembled briefly before his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out in Thorin’s grip.

He sighed and then he heard Nori yelp in surprise and drop something, which landed with a muffled thump on the cobblestones.

“What Nori?” Thorin demanded.

He should have known the thief would lift the Hobbit’s items of value. “He got it in Erebor, because he also stole the Arkenstone,” Nori stated and Thorin nearly dropped the Hobbit in shock.

*~*~*

Bilbo took a deep breath as he came to, long training to not make a sound when he woke up allowing him to enjoy alone time, as it were, from Smaug before Smaug would roar to wake him up, as it were.

He could feel the scratchiness of wool blankets and the softness of feather pillows under him and hear the crackle of the fire at his back. Twitching, he let out a long groan and began to move.

It was then that a familiar, heavy, tug on his collar made the skin ache (it had rubbed raw under the collar without anyone to take it off for him, since he could neither feel nor work the catch in the back, and he knew it was only a matter of time before it started to cause more problems than it already had) had him still and he slowly opened his eyes as he carefully worked on sitting up, lifting the chain so it didn’t tug more than it had to as he did so.

“Good, yer awake,” Dwalin stated and Bilbo just stared at him before he carefully lay back down so the collar would stop tugging at the irritated skin.

And then he realized the Arkenstone was gone.

He missed it when Dwalin stood, mentally panicking.

Stupid, sentient, stone! He knew he shouldn’t have taken it, no matter what the stone said. That it didn’t like it here, amongst the dragon and the traitors and the darkness, and it just wanted to get back to the right Dwarf.

It liked the Dwarves it had grown to care for, though it denied actually caring for them and stupid, stupid…

“Get Thorin, the Hobbit is awake.”

Dwalin’s rumbling voice cut through his panic and he jumped, hissing out in pain as he did so, eyes closing tightly against the pain. “Get Óin as well,” Dwalin added.

“Right,” came a cheerful voice and there were footsteps away.

There were heavy footsteps and Bilbo opened his eyes to stare up at Dwalin, who was staring at him.

They passed their time in silence when shouting could be heard. “…care if he’s the leader! I should have seen to him immediately!”

“That’ll be Óin,” Dwalin commented and a white haired Dwarf with a healer’s kit walked in and straight up to Bilbo.

“Now, now, let’s take a look at you. Can you sit up?” Óin demanded and Bilbo just complied, carefully and slowly.

Óin immediately began poke at him, muttering when Bilbo winced (bruises that he got for being small and unseen, or from tripping guards so Nori could get away), but then Óin moved the chain and Bilbo let out a soft gasp of pain.

Óin immediately stilled and carefully urged Bilbo to look at him. “When was the last time that was removed?” he asked.

“Beginning of spring, two days before I escaped. My cage got damaged, so I was chained up instead,” Bilbo answered softly, his breathing starting to quicken.

Óin cursed softly and immediately shifted, and Bilbo panicked.

Because it wasn’t Óin he was seeing anymore, but the Dwarves who had held him down and snapped the collar into place and hauled him by it despite his choking pleas, and he struck out.

Panic blazed through his veins and he fought desperately against the arms that held him still and he shook his head, broken pleas falling from his lips when hands buried into his hair, holding him still carefully and he sobbed, when the telltale sound of the catch releasing reached his ears.

He sobbed in agony and relief as it was removed and then he was back.

And staring into the gently smiling face of Balin.

“There,” he murmured softly, gently massaging Bilbo’s scalp.

He shuddered as Óin cursed. “This will scar, badly. He’s lucky none of this is infected,” Óin growled.

“You said he said something about a cage?” Thorin asked.

“Golden cage. Very pretty, I guess. Of course, it was in a Dragon’s treasury, so that might have had something to do with it,” Bilbo answered softly.

“Ah, back with us then,” Dwalin stated and released him, though Balin didn’t.

“What were you doing in a Dragon’s treasury?” Thorin asked.

“He was pissed because I distracted him long enough for the Hobbits to escape the ruined Shire,” Bilbo responded.

“This isn’t one of the originals. This had to be made for him,” Dwalin stated.

“The original cut my neck. Smaug wasn’t happy with that either,” Bilbo retorted.

“Why the collar at all, if you had a cage?” Thorin retorted, even as Balin hissed at Thorin to show some tact.

“Because Smaug didn’t want to have to clean up the mess and he wanted me living so he could torment me! That’s why. You try using the water closet when you can barely breathe Thorin Oakenshield and we’ll see how you do!” Bilbo snapped, even as he felt something cool being tapped against his neck.

“How did you know my name?” Thorin asked.

“I hung in Smaug’s treasury for nearly a year. That’s how. That and I stumbled across you once or twice when people did discover your identities. And a few times on the road,” Bilbo answered.

Thorin snorted and Bilbo smiled a bit. “And I must say, it was quite amusing to see you all in burlap sacks,” Bilbo added.

Balin chuckled, even as Thorin scowled.

*~*~*

The months of planning and skimping were made on the road, constantly moving.

They went to Rivendell, once (and Thorin groused the entire time), and Bilbo was quite surprised when he was hugged by a young Lobelia Bracegirdle.

But they wandered, homeless, and built a family with ties made of mithril.

And when a company of thirteen Dwarves, one Hobbit and an occasional Wizard took back the Kingdom of Erebor, they chased the Darkness away with the light that burned bright in the Arkenstone.


	13. 1940s/WWII (Mature, Bilbo/Balin, Human AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was love and it was lost and war has taken it, just like it has always taken everything from Bilbo.
> 
> (Violence, Life-Altering Injuries, Amputation, Mentioned Homophobia, DADT)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headache spike, couldn't write yesterday. Will try to play catch-up, as it were, today.

Bilbo ducked down slightly as the sky shattering explosion went off near him, leaving his ears ringing slightly, though he still ran forward to where a member of the Company was lying in no-man’s land.

He sunk down next to him and threw himself over the body as another explosion wrenched through the air before he was carefully gripping the man, praying there was no spinal or neck injury, but his fellow medic had fallen earlier and he couldn’t grab something to drag him out with and…

He was careful as he could be as he dragged Kili Smith back to the trenches, ignoring the shouts from the head medic, Oin, about risking his life for foolish idiots, though was quick to have a proper stretcher brought over, even as Bilbo wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve. “Thank you,” Fili whispered, even as he trotted after Oin and the other medic, one higher up then Bilbo, rushed him to the medical tent.

“ _That_ was quite foolish, Burglar,” Thorin, his CO, grumbled, even as another explosion sent dirt and mud flying down on top of them.

 _Burglar_.

Once a hiss of condemnation, now an affectionate nickname, it never failed to make Bilbo smile up at whoever used it.

“Yes, sir,” he answered cheerfully and Thorin shook his head.

“We’ll be pushing a wave across at 1700 hours. We’re going to be trying to take out some of their machine guns. Be prepared to receive casualties and please, stop being so foolish,” Thorin ordered in that way of his before he marched off.

Bilbo gave a tiny snort and continued, only for a hand to gently grasp his elbow and pull him out of sight. “Why must you do that?” Balin demanded, all gentleness and sharp wit wrapped up into one unassuming look.

“Do what, sir?” Bilbo responded softly and Balin sighed hand reaching up to cradle his cheek, maybe, as he once did, before they had received orders to come _here_.

With little to no privacy in the foreseeable future, Balin had ruthlessly broken off their secret affair.

It had broken Bilbo’s heart, but he carried on, because that’s what he did.

Besides, after months of Balin acting like even their friendship was something he wanted to forget (though nothing was shown to the Company at large, Dwalin had, twice, asked Bilbo what had happened between Bilbo and his brother), Bilbo decided he had been stress relief.

“Throw yourself into no-man’s land like that! You know better!” Balin asked, but Bilbo just stared up at him.

“I needed to get Kili or he would have died, sir,” Bilbo answered and before Balin could protest, Bilbo asked, politely, “Permission to be dismissed, sir?”

Balin sighed and released Bilbo. “Permission granted, Sargent,” Balin answered and Bilbo ducked away.

He wanted some time to pretend to distress before everything went to heck in a hand basket.

*~*~*

The push against the Nazi trenches was an ill-advised and poorly thought out plan and the Company knew it.

That didn’t stop them from charging in there.

Bilbo was kept back with the other medics to charge out afterwards (if it was safe, but none of the medics every waited that long if they could help it and more than one of the Company’s medics had been killed or taken out of the action that way), and he knew that he wouldn’t see some of his friends after this.

And then he saw Thorin fall and he was over and out of the trench before he had time to think.

Thorin had been the finest friend and the finest CO that anyone could ask for and Bilbo would be _damned_ before he let Thorin fall in no-man’s land and stay there.

Bilbo was at Thorin’s side, using Thorin’s bandages to stem the bleeding at Thorin’s head, pointed to their trenches, and his side, when he heard the telltale whistling of another bomb.

He threw himself over Thorin just as it exploded and pain lanced across his face.

The world was darkness and pain, but the trenches were straight ahead from Thorin’s head and Bilbo shoved it all back and down.

He grabbed Thorin, not as carefully as he should and began to stumble back, and then hands were there, and Oin’s shout of, “Someone get Bilbo!,” was being drowned about the rush of blood that filled his ears and…

The darkness that greeted Bilbo next was free of pain and sound, and it was a relief.

*~*~*

Oin sighed as they prepped both Bilbo and Thorin to be taken to surgery.

Thorin for shrapnel in his torso and leg and Bilbo for shrapnel and burns to the face, and the rest were falling back again.

Any attack on the trenches was next to impossible. “Bifur’s going to!” Ori shouted as he replaced the bandage, the already bloody bandage, around Bifur’s head and they were loading them up in the ambulances with the other casualties, though Oin made sure Bifur, Thorin, and Bilbo were together.

Kili joined them, when he shouldn’t have but the lad had snuck up for the charge, shortly before the ambulance took off, his arm strapped to his torso and heavily bandaged while his twin stayed behind.

The ambulance was gone when their XO, now CO, Balin Fundinson, walked up and asked, “Where’s Bilbo?”

“Heading to the hospital. He took shrapnel to the face protecting Thorin in No-Man’s Land,” Oin answered and Bailn stared out down the road before he turned to take over.

*~*~*

Bifur fell into a coma no one thought he would waken from, some shrapnel left in his skull because they couldn’t remove it all without fear of killing him.

Thorin woke to be told he would most likely never walk again.

Kili woke to find his left arm had been amputated, the damage too severe to save.

And Bilbo woke up with his face bandaged, told that it would be unlikely he would ever see again.

*~*~*

Two days later, the war ended and everyone worked on getting their four friends home.

*~*~*

The four were transferred to a hospital close to Erebor Estate, where they talked about Bilbo visiting for a while before he headed home to his little country cottage.

They were surprised to learn that Bilbo had sold it.

“I sold it to a neighbor because, if I died, I hadn’t wanted it to be taken by my relatives. They’ll take good care of it, but I’m afraid I don’t actually have any place to live,” he explained.

“Stay here then!” Kili had exclaimed.

He had been the first of them to be released and had been visiting near constantly since.

“Oh, yes. The entire Company is practically moving here! You must stay, please?” Fili pressed and Bilbo had agreed, because in all things, he could never stand up to Fili and Kili’s pressing.

*~*~*

Bifur woke up confused and unable to speak in any intelligibly language, but he remembered them and they took what they could get, as it were.

He knew them and was still the Bifur they remembered, if a bit more wild with his temper, but he was still Bifur.

Bifur was allowed to go home, suffering only minor physical setbacks due to his injuries and his cousins were quick to obey all the doctor’s orders.

Thorin was next, but Bilbo stayed.

His burns had gotten infected on top of everything else and soon he fell into a fever dream of madness that left him screaming.

(He wasn’t the only one of the Company.)

*~*~*

Bilbo was released with the knowledge he would never see again and he wrapped his hand around Dwalin’s elbow who lead him to the car. “Don’t you worry. We’ll get a second opinion and such. And, if you really are blind for life, we’ll make sure you aren’t helpless. The Company never gives up on one of their own,” Dwalin growled out.

Bilbo laughed as he fumbled his way into the car, and laughed more when he still managed to almost slip out of his seat for not double-checking how far back it was to begin with. “I know Dwalin! And besides, I’m looking forward to it. Another adventure and all of that,” Bilbo answered cheerfully.

*~*~*

It didn’t stay that way. The cheerfulness waned on days that frustration grew.

Bilbo hit into things often, or tripped on the stairs, though the stairs thing was the first to slowly come only when he was angry and stormed up the stairs to his room, which resulted in him tripping on a step and letting out such curses that made them bite back laughter, because most were childish ones parents said around their children to keep them from swearing.

The day he accidentally stumbled into the library was the day they found him sobbing and broken over a book on horticulture.

Bilbo swayed from being excited and happy, usually sweeping Thorin up in his exuberance (for the man was acting like a starving wolf in a cage with a sick deer on the other side of the bars, and thus fully unpleasant to be around), to crashing hard and fast into self-hatred and shame with a heap of frustration on the side.

And it was after a week of very bad days that Balin realized that he was going to have to do something he should have done long ago.

*~*~*

Balin knocked on Bilbo’s bedroom door (the bedroom he retreated to whenever he felt like he was getting overwhelmed because he knew where everything was, without reservation or fear), and Bilbo responded with, “Go away.”

“Bilbo, it is Balin. Please?” he asked and there was silence.

And then the door was open, despite the fact Balin had not heard, it was to Bilbo staring at him.

His face was altered, slightly, from the burn scars, and the eyes were obviously never going to see again. When an infection set in, any chances Bilbo had to regain his sight were demolished, and it was obvious in his eyes.

The scaring around them, for one, and though he still had them, they were unfocused and glossy.

And had damage to them. Balin would swear it looked like there were scratches, deep within them, but Bilbo raised his eyebrow. “Sir?” he pushed.

“We’re not in the Army anymore Bilbo. It just…Balin,” he stated and Bilbo nodded.

“May I come in?” Balin asked.

Bilbo hesitated before he nodded and stepped to the side.

Balin followed and the door closed behind him. “What is it you wanted to talk about Balin?” Bilbo asked as he made his way unerringly to the chair that had been placed there. It, and another, framed a table with a wireless sitting on it.

A gift from Bofur after Bilbo got Bifur out of some trouble in the village below when he lost his temper and accidentally damaged something he was going to buy.

Bifur was, in all honesty, the best when it came to Bilbo, because Bilbo just had something about him that kept the other so very calm.

“Bilbo, I want to apologize,” Balin stated.

“For what?” Bilbo asked with false lightness as he sat down in the far chair from Balin.

“For…for how I ended it,” he explained and Bilbo’s face seemed to smooth over, like a frozen pond.

“I don’t want your pity,” Bilbo stated, his voice practically capable of making frost dance across the windowpanes.

“It isn’t pity, Bilbo, it is an apology I should have given at the beginning. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, or acted as if what we had hadn’t meant anything,” Balin stated and Bilbo looked toward the window.

“Very well. You’ve apologized and eased your conscience. Please close the door on your way out,” Bilbo responded and Balin flinched at the chill that still coated Bilbo’s words.

“Bilbo…” Balin stated, but Bilbo shook his head and looked in his direction.

“It hurt. It hurt when you cut it off like that, and it hurt even more when you just pretended like it all meant nothing. I can understand…I can understand hiding the more intimate relationship we shared, but the friendship as well? It was as if someone stabbed a knife into my chest and twisted it, again. And you know, I thought I had had enough of that to last a lifetime. I almost got sent home over it, but I managed to convince Oin to let me stay, just put me on leave till I healed. I didn’t expect you to visit and I hadn’t expected you to ask about it, but I think I would have rather have had it happen literally than figuratively. It hurt less. And I’m tired of being your secret, so if you’ve made your peace, go away. Because I’m tired and hurting and angry and if you stay, I’ll only say worse things. I’ll find you later to apologize, most likely, but not right now,” Bilbo stated and then he stared back at the window.

Balin thought he said he understood, but he might not have said anything at all, instead retreating.

He was at the end of the hallway when his brother’s voice stopped him. “I thought it was him that had done something. You were off, after. But when he refused to say anything, just shrugged, twice, I knew that couldn’t be it. I thought you two might’ve had a scare, someone almost catch you, and now jumped apart, but no reasoning was given. Thorin nearly drove himself spare, trying to figure out what happened between you two.”

“You knew?” Balin asked.

“ _Everyone_ in the Company knew. No one outside it though. We had lots of excuses all tidied up if anyone asked, same as we had for Ori and everyone else who had something not exactly accepted outside of us. We knew you two wanted to keep it secret, and I honestly thought Bilbo would break it off. All that small town stuff and the fact he mentioned to Kili once how a boy in his town was beaten to near death over being homosexual, but…I never thought it was you being an idiot,” Dwalin answered with a rolling shrug.

Balin scowled at that and Dwalin huffed. “The trenches, no privacy, I get that. But I hadn’t thought you had called it all off. Sounds like you tried to rip his heart out with whatever you said. Probably were doing your self-sacrificing thing again. Probably because you wondered about how he would probably want someone closer to his age, carry on the family name and all that rubbish, except he’s got a cousin that’s going to be married as soon as he turns 18, and all that. Or maybe you wanted him to have no guilt over returning home, except now, it seems, he sold that little cottage we all went to. Once. All on leave right before the trenches and that’s probably when you did it, isn’t it? Or right before. I had thought he was off that night, but I didn’t think much of it. Then he started getting reckless and throwing himself over us when we got caught in something. Actions of a man with nothing left to lose, ‘cept his life, and he didn’t did he? Idiot, you’re lucky he’s still alive and you aren’t grieving over a grave,” Dwalin continued and Balin was glaring at him now.

Dwalin was just gouging his point in now.

“I get it Dwalin,” Balin stated.

“Good. Fix it then,” Dwalin stated and turned on his heel to march down the steps to the ground floor.

Balin wondered if he could be blamed if Dwalin fell down the steps, though there was no true bite to his thoughts.

*~*~*

It would take years for Bilbo and Balin to return to what they had. Simultaneously pining for each other didn’t happen till a decade after Bilbo was declared blind, and during the years, Bilbo learned how to return to the life he loved so, including writing.

Bilbo asked Balin for their relationship to return to the intimacy it once had after his first book was published.

Balin agreed.


	14. Pirates (Mature, Fili/Bilbo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one would pay a ransom for Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, so why has Captain Smaug captured him?
> 
> (Imprisonment, Inhumane Conditions, Broken Heart, Angst, Death from Old Age)

Bilbo grunted as he was thrown to the deck of the pirates’ airship in front of Azog’s feet and he looked up to stare blankly up at the pale Orc in the light of the setting sun. “You know, it is much easier to ask than to haul people around and…” Bilbo drawled, only to get cut off with a kick to the face.

“Azog!” a voice barked as Bilbo shook his head to clear it, wincing when cold fingers gripped his chin and forced him to crane up painfully and into the wicked eyes of Captain Smaug.

“Is that anyway to treat our most _honored_ guest?” Smaug asked with a wicked smirk and Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh.

“If this is for ransom, there isn’t anybody around me willing to pay it,” Bilbo stated, not even having to lie.

No, no, the only one willing to have paid to keep him safe was long gone. But, that was to be expected.

After all, what did Bilbo Baggins, a Hobbit, have to offer a Dwarf?

He was rich, by Hobbit standards, but that didn’t mean gold and gems. No, he just had land that he generously lent out, much to his cousins’ rage, all of whom would probably pay Smaug a great deal to cut off Bilbo’s head and send it to the Thain so there would be proof of death.

“No one?” Smaug asked with mock pity, even as he released Bilbo’s chin and Bilbo rolled his head to ease the crick out, even as the Men hauled Bilbo up onto his feet.

Smaug was not a Man, for all he looked like one and Azog was the only Orc to ever take to the skies. Hobbits disliked it, their natural fear of heights usually keeping them quite happy on the ground, thank you very much, but Bilbo had been…

Well, he was lost and alone and had left the care of his lands, for a short time, with one of his Took cousins, who needed the practice anyway.

It seems his plans would not be upheld.

“Not even…oh, what is that Dwarf’s name? The one you took up with at some point, who left you all alone, now what is his name?” Smaug asked, but Bilbo kept silent, refusing to say his (for all that he wasn’t anymore) Dwarf’s name.

“Oh, Fíli, that’s it! Fíli! And, let’s see. He left you. He left you with gruff words and gruffer tone and was quite destroying and…yet you still keep quiet about him. Do Halflings really love so strongly that they will not even betray their love, not even when someone says the name?” Smaug asked, every word mocking.

“Well, one Dwarf is like another, as they say,” Bilbo answered and his head snapped to the side as Azog backhanded him.

“Azog, please. He’s a guest,” Smaug chided, but there was no true feeling behind them.

“And, you know, Master Baggins, if you keep this up, Azog may just remove your tongue. Or worse,” Smaug stated and he smiled cruelly at Bilbo.

“And then where would you be, without your pretty words to keep you out of trouble?” he asked and then waved his hand at the Men to drag Bilbo away, even as he barked out orders to head East.

*~*~*

‘Guest’ translates very quickly to ‘prisoner’ when Bilbo is thoroughly unhelpful in all matters.

He’s not rude, but unfailingly polite, even as he hides the daggers of insults behind his polite words. He nearly has Azog on him twice to tear him limb for limb before he’s heeled like a starving Warg to Smaug’s side.

But by the third week of this, Smaug has had enough.

“It seems you must insist on not being our guest,” Smaug pouts out and he has Bilbo hauled out of the room he was placed in.

Bilbo is dragged down into the dark of the hold where only the barest of sunlight peters through, barely enough to keep Bilbo from dying (so he knows he will be ill soon enough), where he is shoved against the wall. He is held in place as cuffs are slapped over his wrists to hold him in place, still standing, and he knows on a normal person, they would be sitting in a very uncomfortable position.

In fact, in this position, he has to stand on his toes and he already knows that this is not going to go well for him.

By the end of however long they hold him in here for, he’s going to be sick, in pain, and very pliant.

“Wasn’t it better when you were a guest?” Smaug asked.

“Well, the conditions weren’t that much better, so I can’t be sure yet. Come back in a week and I might have more of an idea,” Bilbo responded calmly.

Smaug laughed and pat his bruised face ‘gently’ before he walked off, leaving Bilbo alone in the dark.

*~*~*

The hold smells foul by the end of the second day and Bilbo knows that Smaug took his words to heart, as it were. The smell of Shadow Sickness (as the Hobbits call lack of sunlight) has started to curl through the air, along with other, unmentionable smells, and Bilbo’s entire body is just pain and cramps.

He is shivering in the dark and the pirates idea of cleaning him off is to dump a bucket of water they got from _somewhere_ (and Bilbo does not want to think of _where_ ) over him and leaving him soaking wet and coughing.

They do that twice a day and they’ve done it eight times (rum was forced down his throat somewhere in there, and he got sick all over himself, so surprisingly clean water was used instead) when the airship shakes.

There are shouts and a battle cry of the Dwarves, except Dwarves don’t travel in airships.

He hurts all over, however, and so he decides he’s imagining a rescue.

Not that, of course, a rescue would come. No, no rescue would be forth coming for him, Bilbo Baggins, because there was no one who wanted him.

So when the door is thrown open, starts painfully, especially when a voice shouts, “It smells foul down here!”

“It’s the hold, laddie, what did you expect?” came another voice, and then the sound of someone walking down the steps.

“Do you think anyone’s down here?” the first voice asked.

“I both hope for and against that very thing,” the second stated as they made their way.

When they were merely shadows in the darkness, Bilbo sighed and said, “I hope I haven’t gone mad, because I think Azog really will kill me then.”

The slighter of the two forms leapt straight up with a shriek and Bilbo winces. “I’m not mad then?” Bilbo inquired as the two forms faced him and he leaned his head back to rest against the wood.

“No, you’re not,” the second voice stated, coming from the heftier of the two silhouettes.

“Ah. And what have you come here for? I highly doubt for me, but I don’t think they have anything with them,” Bilbo answered, even as the, most likely, older one came toward him, one arm up to presumably keep the stench out.

“Sorry, but I’ve not been let down for…four days, I think. They dumped water over me eight times, but I could be wrong,” Bilbo stated, still shaking, even as…oh.

A Dwarf.

“We’re looking for someone, actually. A Bilbo Boggins,” the younger voice stated.

“Baggins,” Bilbo responded softly, even as the older Dwarf freed his wrist.

The gasp of relief came unbidden, and Bilbo whimpered as the other wrist was released. He probably would have hit the ground, the very disgusting ground, if he wasn’t caught and hauled carefully into a clean space.

“I could have sworn was Boggins,” the younger mused.

“I can assure you, it is…”

“He is down there?” came a panicked voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

“Oh…I have gone mad,” Bilbo whispered, because that has to be Fíli.

“Um…why do you ask?” the younger voice asked.

“We’ve torn the place apart upstairs and he’s not there!” Fíli explained and Bilbo, who was in a lot of pain, vaguely heard the older ordering the younger to get their healer, but he smiled.

“You’re not mad,” the older Dwarf reassured, but Bilbo shook his head.

“No, you see, I am, because I can hear Fíli, and he left. And no one wants Mad Bilbo Baggins, should’ve known, really, but if he’s here I must be mad,” Bilbo explained, even as his ears rung and then the darkness took him.

*~*~*

Bilbo took a deep breath and it was a clean smell. He could feel the warmth of the sun and the deeper breath he took caused him to try and hack out a lung.

“Bilbo!” Fíli shouted and Bilbo winced, even as he felt Fíli’s familiar hands on his shoulders and inhaled that Dwarvish scent that was all Fíli.

“Not so loud,” Bilbo whispered, even as he was being hugged.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought if I left, you’d be safe, I never thought for a minute _you_ would leave the Shire,” Fíli apologized rapidly, hand running through Bilbo’s, supposedly, clean curls.

Bilbo wishes that he could say, ‘all is forgiven’, but he can’t, because Fíli left him, even after he promised he wouldn’t. A raven had come and then… Fíli had left.

Left with harsh words crafted to hurt, breaking promises and ripping apart what was left of the trust between them.

And he broke as he wouldn’t a year ago.

“You left,” Bilbo sobbed out and Fíli is holding him away to look at him, his face crushed in that way of his that only shows his eyes.

“You left and you left me alone,” Bilbo stated.

“You had your family…” Fíli began, even as Bilbo shook his head.

“No one wants me Fíli! When I was dragged aboard that ship, I told him none would pay ransom for me! They’d pay him to kill me to be sure, but to free me? They wouldn’t even spare a copper coin!” Bilbo panted out, starting to thrash.

“You promised, you _swore to me_ , that you would not leave and you did! How could I stay, knowing that everything that was good in my life was gone, somewhere out there? How…how…could you…” Bilbo gasped out and began to sob heavily.

“Bilbo…I’m sorry. I thought…I thought I could protect you!” Fíli tried, even Bilbo sobbed harder, everything choking in his throat and ripping it up.

“You left, you left, and I had no one,” Bilbo gasped out and suddenly Fíli was holding him tight, curled around him as he always did when Bilbo cuddled to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Fíli offered again, even as Bilbo punched him in the shoulder.

*~*~*

It turned out that Fíli was the nephew to a pirate captain, Thorin Oakenshield.

Thorin Oakenshield whose sworn enemy was Azog (Azog who was now dead) and that the raven had come to warn him that Azog was on the warpath for them all, to get out to keep Bilbo safe.

Dwalin laughed long and hard over Bilbo punching him before stumbling to the ground, gasping for air.

For, despite being asleep for two days in the sun while being cared for by Óin, his condition had barely bettered.

“I still haven’t forgiven you, you know,” Bilbo murmured as Fíli came to stand at his side.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Fíli offered.

“Stop apologizing,” Bilbo retorted as he stared out over the sky, pretending they weren’t in an airship.

Fíli sighed and leaned next to him. “Will we ever be back to what we were?” Fíli asked.

“You broke your promise to me and left me alone and instead of _explaining_ , you just ended it in a way that you should have known would hurt. Why? So I’d hate you? Because I’ve told you before it was impossible and instead I spent the last _year_ drowning in guilt, thinking I had said or done something to hurt you!” Bilbo responded and Fíli shrunk in on himself.

“On that note, no, we won’t. Before you hadn’t left me. Now…well, it will take time, but we might be okay again. I have a shorter life than you, so it will probably soon for you, but long for me,” Bilbo continued softly and sighed before he moved away from the railing, wavering on his feet.

He paused to breathe and then he began to walk forward, back to his patch of room that would allow the sun to shine for a majority of the day.

*~*~*

It would be two years before Bilbo risked his heart again.

It was safely guarded till Bilbo’s dying day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a side-note; this started off like "Castle in the Sky" and then I decided to make that my favorite movie plot due to the fact that I have a lot of favorite movies.
> 
> My favorite book plot is also a movie, however, and will probably be more like the movie, than not.
> 
> *~*~*~*
> 
> Okay, serious question time;
> 
> I happen to amuse myself with Mpreg. I blame Norse Mythology (they started it with the belief that all who could perform magic could get pregnant and give birth, at least as far as my research can tell me, which is actually pretty extensive).
> 
> Anyway, how would people feel about the next installment having Mpreg, or should I make it gender-bend?
> 
>  **Edit:** Thanks for the input! Mpreg won, but there is a genderbend AU coming up, so YAY!!!


	15. Asylum (Mature, Bilbo/?, Asylum-ish AU, Canon Divergence, READ THE SUMMARY)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asylum; a place offering protection and safety; a shelter.
> 
> And for Bilbo, the only place left is Rivendell, to his knowledge at least.
> 
> ("Minor" Character Death Seen and Mentioned, Mpreg, Mentioned Fear of Miscarriage, No Actual Miscarriage, Secret Identity, Threat of Taking Child Away, Talk of Forced Marriage, Neither of Which Happen, Mostly Due to Bending of Rules to Hurt Bilbo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this is rushed. It probably would have worked better as a series or chapter-story over this, but this was the idea that hit me when I was trying to figure out...things.
> 
> And I crashed off the tracks with his prompt.
> 
> *headdesks*

Bilbo bit back a sob as it hit him what he was doing.

He was sitting in his smial, in the dark of the night, with a covered lantern at his knees, his bag packed with all the necessities for the road, preparing to run.

Ninety-two days ago, Bilbo had been blissfully happy and domestic with his Dwarven fiancée, Regin.

Regin, who had shown up in the Shire six years ago at the forge right as the Hobbits had needed one the most.

The Hobbits who still felt the effects of the Fell Winter, even twelve years later, and one of those ‘effects’ was due to the fact that the blacksmith’s apprentice had been one of the ones to die.

They despised each other the moment they saw each other.

Regin mocked, Bilbo retorted (after he fumbled the first oh, four times because, oh, the Dwarf’s voice was deep, and it made Bilbo’s stomach clench, but he had  _duties_  and  _everything_ , and even though he  _could_ , he  _shouldn’t_ ).

They snarled and fought like cats and dogs, trading mental blows even as they seemed to move closer and closer to each other.

Belladonna Baggins, slowly dying since her husband died in the Fell Winter, cackled gleefully every time Bilbo stormed back, snarling and snapping about the Dwarf smith.

She then gleefully invited Regin over and had tea with him and…

Bilbo was surprised when Regin, who Bilbo was sure he could never have, asked if he could court him in a mix of the Hobbit and Dwarf way, shortly after Bilbo’s thirty-fifth birthday.

Bilbo had flushed and stuttered, before asking for a clarification.

Dwarf courting traditionally lasted from seven to ten years, while Hobbit courting lasted from one to three. Five was scandalous time for both of their Races and an agreeable term by Belladonna’s standards, as she had been the one to suggest it.

From there, others were made along the way.

Beads of wood instead of metal, flowers instead of jewels, kisses exchanged instead of hands being held, bends to each other their own courting that made the Hobbits gasp and Regin thankful no Dwarf was around to comment on how fast they were going.

When Belladonna passed the following year, Regin was a rock Bilbo had not expected, sharing Bilbo’s grief over the loss of a parent, of a mother.

Of losing a father as well, when Bilbo finally told Regin about the Fell Winter.

Time passed for them, the Hobbits shifting nervously at the length of the courting. During their third year of courtship, Regin disappeared one day and did not return for three months.

Bilbo had never been so angry and he shouted at Regin and Regin had shouted back, their personalities crashing and cracking against each other until the both calmed as Bilbo ran out of anger born from worry.

(“You could have left a note! ‘Sorry, must leave for two weeks, don’t worry about me unless I haven’t returned for a year.’”

“It was three months.”

“Same thing!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”)

They had other spats, but ones soothed over by talking, something Regin was not particularly good at and Bilbo was fantastically good at, so long as it wasn’t about himself.

As they neared Bilbo’s fortieth birthday, and their wedding which would happen after, Bilbo had considered the last great rift between their two cultures, as it were.

Hobbits didn’t have sex till marriage, for tradition (Bilbo did not fancy losing his child or his love) while Dwarves had sex toward the end of their courting, in hopes of having a child during their first year of marriage.

As his birthday present to Regin, well his private one, he told Regin that he was willing to break this otherwise unbreakable rift of Hobbit tradition, once one was out of tweenhood anyway, with Regin.

Regin who had not expected such a thing.

He had buried his face into Bilbo’s hair and  _breathed_  for a while and then it was a very nice, if sleep inducing night.

He woke up the next morning sore, but it was a pleasant soreness that Bilbo decided he particularly liked.

A week later, his body accepted the care and nurturing of the possible new life, the possibility of growth and a future, without Bilbo’s say-so.

(He had thought he had taken enough of the herbs, he could have  _sworn_  it but, ninety-two days later, and it obviously wasn’t.)

But Bilbo hadn’t known then, and if he had, he might have gone chasing after Regin instead of waiting nervously in Bag-End.

It was the tenth of Winterfilth and Regin had disappeared from their bed.

At first, Bilbo had not been worried.

Regin often got up early without disturbing Bilbo, and Bilbo had been complaining that his chest was sore and making it hard to sleep.

Instead, he had turned to his tasks for the day and plans for a wedding (Regin said they would marry in the Dwarvish fashion with his kin after the Hobbit wedding and not merge the two).

It is only when Holman comes up to ask him why Regin had left the Shire that Bilbo realized anything is wrong at all.

 _He went West_.

It comes out almost unbidden, followed by an explanation. “He said he’d tell me, but he must have forgotten. Or I haven’t found the note yet,” Bilbo responded, and that is the last thing he clearly remembers.

Once again, there is no note and so Bilbo decides to continue planning. He doesn’t say he found a note, but he says he expects Regin back within the month.

Definitely before the first of Blotmath, just before the real cold snap begins, and the date the wedding is planned for.

“He does have Kin to the West,” he explained and the Hobbits all agreed that, since a wedding was going to be taking place soon, he would have to tell kin.

And then…Bilbo started to feel exhausted for no reason.

Well, more so than before.

He shrugged away weariness with mental explanations of stress.

(He officially postpones the wedding indefinitely ten days after Regin’s leaving.)

He ignored all the signs, including the nausea and the exhaustion.

But he could no longer ignore it when, as he lay in bed, dozing, he idly registered the gently double-thump of life growing within him.

Of two under his heart that had taken root in the fertility of the Shire and the love of a Dwarf and Bilbo immediately began to panic.

He had not had time to explain things to Regin about Hobbits, about how male Hobbits from the three larger families could be Bearers (it was not a gene that was still about, and actually a sign of his Baggins blood, not his Took, for it was prevalent in the Baggins side of the family), and how  _he could get pregnant_!

But the second thought that gripped his heart with fear was the fact that the majority of the Hobbits of the Shire would not let him wait for his Dwarf smith to come back for a marriage.

He could have died on the road or would have left Bilbo, now that he got what he wanted.

Well, that is what they will whisper at least.

Bilbo knows that Regin would not have left him like this. Not if it wasn’t important, but until Regin gets back, Bilbo must hide the pregnancy, though he wants to do anything but.

But they will not wait, so Bilbo knows he must.

He manages quite well, especially as he is well known for being properly round and so a little added padding around the middle is expected.

Bilbo manages his sore chest and his extreme fatigue that gets only worse, and his nausea. He hides the first and pushes the other two off as worry for his fiancée.

It is not a lie, for the most part, and so Bilbo feels no guilt over saying as much.

On the second day of Foreyule, Bilbo truly starts to panic over Regin’s well-being, for he’s now missed their wedding with nary a word for Bilbo.

He wrings his hands worriedly and makes sure to eat proper nutrients as the two lives grow within him.

Because of  _course_  the Hobbit fertility had to crash into him on both sides. Him being an only child had been quite odd, but Belladonna had always smiled just so and Bungo had nearly laughed at their curiosity, while Bilbo remained confused.

(They had wanted only one, and so only one they would have.)

Twenty days later, the entire Shire learns about Bilbo’s pregnancy.

He collapsed in the marketplace, his exhaustion and everything else catching up with him and he was taken to a healer.

The assistant told one, who told another, and the talk began about getting Bilbo married off to one of the Hobbits, or, if Bilbo decided to wait for his Dwarf (who was obviously not coming back, for why should he buy the cow if the milk was free?), have the child adopted by one of the Tooks, or even the Brandybucks.

Bilbo had protested both, saying his Dwarf would return to him and that he could raise a child on his own till then.

But the other Hobbits ignored him, even when Bilbo pressed there were plenty of widowed Carriers (or widowed Planters) that raised their children fine on their own, but his protests were brushed off.

So, Bilbo planned, despite his exhaustion and fear, to get out.

And that lead to this moment.

Ninety-two days after conception, after the life was accepted to be nurtured and grow to the exclusion of all else, and Bilbo was preparing to run.

His pantry was empty, what couldn’t be spared already eaten. He had stored that which would keep in cloth and tins, packing them away in his pack until he could not lift it, wearing his warmest and thickest clothes.

For it was the last day of Foreyule and winter was curling through the Shire.

With everything packed, Bilbo carefully blew out the lantern and hung it back up before he headed for the back.

The rest of the smial was locked away behind Dwarvish locks and Dwarvish locks could only be opened by one who had the key.

(Holman had been on Bilbo’s side for raising the child alone, along with some of Bilbo’s Took cousins, mainly because he had the money, and time, to do so, but only Holman agreed with Bilbo that the Dwarf would be coming back, and was one of the only two other people with a key. The other was Regin, who was not in the Shire and thus would be left alone by dreaded relatives.)

When he rushed out the back however, he came up short to find three figures waiting for him with…

“Easy Master Baggins. Just me, and some of yer Took cousins. Seems they wanted to make sure you would be safe fer the road,” Holman stated and Bilbo stared in surprise as one of his cousin’s lifted the lantern to reveal a pony laden with packs.

“Her name is Myrtle. Now lock up and get out cousin. They’ll be after you for being a thief, of all things, soon enough,” Fortinbras stated.

Bilbo quickly did as told and looked at Fortinbras, Adalgrim just huffing. “We don’t go against our dads,” Adalgrim stated and Bilbo smiled, even as he carefully took up Myrtle’s lead.

Adalgrim than handed Bilbo a map. “Best route to Rivendell. It’ll take you through Bree and the following road after that is twisting. You’re best a reading maps, so you should be fine. Keep an eye out for unsavory folk and use that knife like Aunt Bella taught you,” he stated.

“Go!” Holman ordered and Bilbo, once he double-checked his back door, obeyed.

If the Sheriffs caught him, he would be locked up till Regin came, and it was not a guarantee that he would come in time.

So Bilbo just pressed on.

*~*~*

Being on the road was not easy for a Hobbit in average conditions and it was harder on a pregnant Hobbit.

More often than not Bilbo found himself exhausted, dizzy, and slightly ill.

The cold of winter that crept in made Bilbo worry constantly for his unborn babes, and it did not help that it took thirteen days to reach Bree.

He couldn’t stay in Bree, but he wasn’t sure he could make it to Rivendell either.

But instead he focused on repacking Myrtle’s bag with nonperishable food, strapped the light things to his back and made sure Myrtle was comfortable. Once settled, he paid for them to spend the day at the Prancing Pony and his in his room, only leaving to take his meals out in the common room.

He left the next morning at dawn.

*~*~*

Bilbo travelled down the long and winding road, with only Myrtle and fear as his companions.

Myrtle was a brave pony, who seemed to have far more intelligence than what one would expect, but it kept Bilbo from falling too far into a depression as the days seemed to speed past and yet they grew no closer to Rivendell.

They skittered past three Trolls who complained about the food they had and Bilbo nearly lost Myrtle there, for she had been frightened by the smell of Troll (though Bilbo could hardly blame her for that).

He, and somehow Myrtle, moved with all of the silence allowed of a Hobbit, unknowingly slipping past sentries of both good and bad.

When the snows came, Myrtle blocked the majority of it with her body, but that did not stop Bilbo from shivering with the cold, terrified he would lose the babes.

He might have died that winter, despite his best attempts, if he had not stumbled over the edge of Rivendell’s protection (though luckily not over the edge of a cliff), as his mental cry for help and safety rang through Lord Elrond’s mind.

As Bilbo slumped to the ground, Myrtle immediately took up guard over him, even as the Elf horns sounded.

For Rivendell was a haven for the weary of the Free-People to rest.

And it had granted asylum to one tired, frightened, sick, pregnant, Hobbit.

*~*~*

Bilbo woke to the feeling of a hand on his brow and words of healing being murmured in Sindarin. He blinked awake to find a dark haired Elf smiling warmly down at him. “Welcome back, young Hobbit. I was afraid I was going to lose you, and the babe,” he stated and Bilbo immediately started to panic, only for the Elf to immediately try to calm him.

“You are all fine. Despite being ill for the past week with a very bad fever, all three of you are going to be quite all right,” the Elf stated and Bilbo let out a low sigh of relief, slumping into the pillows.

“I am Lord Elrond,” the Elf introduced.

“Thank you. Bilbo Baggins, at your service,” Bilbo responded softly.

Lord Elrond merely smiled and nodded. “Rest now, Master Baggins. I’ll wake you for supper. I promise, you are safe here,” Elrond answered and Bilbo let out a low sigh of relief and, for the first time since he discovered the pregnancy, believed it.

(And he could sleepily enjoy the flutters within him that came not from the innate Hobbit ability to sense life, but from his, and Regin’s, children moving within the womb.)

*~*~*

The Hobbits stared open mouthed as the Dwarf they knew as Regin stormed into the Green Dragon.

“Where is my fiancée?” he demanded.

*~*~*

“Thorin?” Dwalin asked as Thorin stalked out of the tavern, all barely contained fury that did not abate, even as he practically threw himself onto his pony.

“Mahal curse it!” Thorin hissed as he turned his pony around, only to find a Hobbit standing in the way.

“What is it?” Dwalin asked.

“They said to ask the Tooks. And they aren’t talking to me,” Thorin snapped.

“Why?” Dwalin asked as Thorin nudged his pony so they could head to the road where the rest of their Company waited, apparently called to Erebor.

Dwalin thought it was a trap, but Thorin seemed irritated.

“Because, I left him pregnant and unmarried,” Thorin hissed.

Dwalin chuckled, but stopped when Thorin’s glare intensified.

“But…you said he was male in both body and choice! How does that happen?” Dwalin asked as quietly as he could.

As there were only a few scandalous looks, it was low enough.

“I didn’t ask that part, but his mother wasn’t one to lie about that. Play pranks, but lie about something I might not believe? That she wouldn’t do,” Thorin explained.

“So, your fiancée is pregnant and probably with Elves?” Dwalin asked and Thorin’s teeth clenched tighter.

“And he has no idea what your real name is,” Dwalin stated and Thorin exhaled heavily.

“Yes,” Thorin agreed.

“Balin is going to have  _words_  with you, oh great King,” Dwalin stated.

Throin growled and nudged his pony into a canter, Dwalin soon following close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this lovely AU, Thorin was going by the name of Rerin to get money without drawing attention to himself.
> 
> Smaug never came, but gold-madness did and he, and a few others, have been exiled to the Blue Mountains, Dis among them due to stubbornness.
> 
> His "sudden disappearances" are related to King-things he must do. The latest one?
> 
> Rebellion in the Blue Mountains. (He squashed it.)
> 
> There is talk of his need to go back to Erebor, but he doesn't want Bilbo to be dumped into this world, because the moron does actually love Bilbo.
> 
> He was going to explain, before the wedding, and Bilbo's reaction is beautiful, in my head.
> 
> (For anyone wondering; Thorin already knew about the male pregnancy thing, as Belladonna told him.)
> 
> (Anyone else wondering, this will eventually become a series and be more focused on their relationship and how it grew and such over the pregnancy, and asylum Bilbo was granted to protect himself and his future child from people in the Shire desiring to hurt Bilbo, because I always believed some Baggins cousins, beyond the Sackville-Baggins, were people who were pissed that Bungo married a Took and took it out on Bilbo.)
> 
> \--Bilbo pregnancy side-notes.
> 
> When Bilbo registers life, that is when the heartbeat begins, or thereabouts. He essentially felt the heartbeat.


	16. Turn of the Century (Teen, Kíli/Bilbo, Human AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is 1907 and Bilbo prefers the horse to the automobiles that are popping up everywhere still.
> 
> Too bad Kíli loves them.
> 
> (Homophobia, Secret Relationship, Kíli being adorable)

Bilbo took a deep breath as he pulled Myrtle to a halt, knowing that he should not be riding alone, but it was among his usual route, which followed the low rock wall that separated the Baggins fields from the dirt road. If he didn’t return by the appointed time, Hamfast would follow the trail till he found Bilbo.

It was one of the good things about being predictable.

However, as Bilbo heard Kíli Durin’s new Stanley Steamer (red, of all things) coming down the road. He debated sending Myrtle away from the road before he sighed and settled in to wait, even as the automobile drew closer. “Bilbo!” came Kíli’s shout and Bilbo lifted his flat cap up to wave it at Kíli before he pulled it back over his curls.

Kíli Durin was the third in line for the Durin land and titles.

Not that anyone would be able to tell with the way he acted.

Kíli Durin and Bilbo Baggins happened to be the same age (19) and were vastly different. Kíli was reckless while Bilbo (who had the county of Baggins to his name, though he did not desire it as it had come at the price of his parents) was responsible (and, in some cases, quite timid), and their friendship was widely approved by the entire Durin Family in hopes that Bilbo would ground Kíli.

Bilbo is certain it won’t work out that way.

He is also quite certain that the Durin Family would be less than pleased to have them be friends if they knew how he felt for Kíli and visa-versa.

They had gone to the same boarding schools all their lives and even now attended the same college. “Kíli,” Bilbo greeted as Kíli parked the car, Myrtle tossing her head slightly at the sound while Kíli lifted his goggles over his own flat cap.

“Bilbo! Fíli’s welcome home party is tonight, or did you forget?” Kíli asked as he hopped over the rock wall easily, grinning up at Bilbo unashamedly even as Bilbo shifted on Myrtle’s back, the mare shifting with him.

“I didn’t forget. You’ll find I didn’t R.S.V.P.,” Bilbo responded, even as he tried to back away.

Kíli immediately latched onto Myrtle’s reins and frowned up at Bilbo. “But why?” Kíli asked.

“Because,” Bilbo answered.

“Because why? Fíli’s homecoming party is one of the few times we can dress up and have something like a date!” Kíli stated.

“That’s why Kíli! We can’t…we can’t keep doing this! We both have a duty and a responsibility, myself more than you! I have to get _married_ one day!I have to have a male heir!” Bilbo argued and Kíli reached up to clutch at Bilbo’s pant leg.

“You’d sell yourself for…” Kíli sputtered and Bilbo suddenly dismounted, on the right side due to an injury of the left leg during boarding school that neither talked about, and he grabbed Kíli’s shoulder.

“Kíli…” he interrupted, but Kíli was leaning forward and kissing him.

He kissed back, tears welling in his eyes as he did so. “I…I can’t let my cousins get Bag-End,” Bilbo gasped out as Kíli released him and the brunette nuzzled just behind Bilbo’s ear.

“Don’t, please,” Kíli begged softly, even as Bilbo’s breath hitched as Kíli pulled him in for another kiss, fingers burying in Bilbo’s curls.

When they separated Bilbo was trembling. “Do you know what my cousins will do with the Baggins lands and titles?” he asked, even as Kíli pulled him in for another kiss.

“So find another way. But please, please, don’t give yourself up for a legacy that can’t save itself,” Kíli begged softly when they parted and Bilbo ached, desperately wishing that he could.

He then thought about the cousin that had been disinherited from his branch of the family, adrift for marrying a commoner.

He could always name him heir, or his future children heir.

That could work.

“Kíli…okay,” Bilbo whispered and Kíli pulled him in for another kiss, nipping at Bilbo’s bottom lip.

Myrtle’s squeal of fury was the only warning they had before the sound of hoofbeats reached them and they separated. “Kíli!” came Thorin’s shout.

Kíli groaned even as he scrambled for the car, Thorin having already trotted past the car before turning back around to come to a halt next to the car on his proud Thoroughbred stallion, Smaug. “Kíli, what have I said about taking out the car _without permission_?” Thorin demanded, even as Myrtle nudged Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Sorry Uncle! Needed to convince Bilbo to change his mind about Fíli’s Coming Home party!” Kíli stated as he settled in the driver’s seat and Thorin looked over at that.

“Did you succeed?” Thorin asked and Bilbo’s head snapped over to him.

There was something in Thorin’s voice that made Bilbo’s heart clench, though Kíli seemed oblivious. “Yes, sir,” Kíli stated as Bilbo mounted back up.

“Well, in that case, I’ll ride back with Bilbo and we can drive over in his car together,” Thorin stated and Bilbo tensed, causing Myrtle to prance in place.

Kíli frowned at that, about to ask, when Thorin spurred Smaug into movement and sailed over the wall.

There was a reason Smaug was Thorin’s favorite, and Myrtle danced. “All right,” Kíli hedged and began to work on getting the Stanley Steamer started.

Smaug squealed at the sound and bounced up in a small rear before Thorin calmed him. Kíli settled the goggles back into place and began to drive off, even as Thorin watched him go, right before he focused on Bilbo.

“Ready?” Thorin asked and Bilbo nodded, turning Myrtle back for home.

They had been riding for some time when Thorin broke the silence. “You realize I know right?” he questioned.

“Know what?” Bilbo asked and Thorin sighed.

“About you and Kíli,” Thorin stated and Bilbo immediately began to protest, only to be cut off by Thorin raising his hand.

“By law, I should turn you over to the authorities. However…I wouldn’t know at all if I didn’t know Kíli. You two are being exceptionally discreet and you make him happy. And Kíli hasn’t been truly happy since his father died,” Thorin stated and Bilbo looked away.

“Just keep it quiet,” Thorin stated and then he spurred Smaug into surging forward.

Bilbo sighed and debated, before he nudged Myrtle to charge right after him.

A fine Hunter mare, her own Thoroughbred blood only showed when truly challenged.

But Bilbo made sure to keep it surely in hand as he remembered that, just because Thorin approved now, it didn’t mean he would approve later.

(Thorin’s opinion never changed, but he did grow to believe they had separated applicably.)

(Kíli never corrected his uncle on that assumption.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turn of the Century.
> 
> DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TURN OF THE CENTURIES THERE ARE???
> 
> I eventually picked shortly before World War I and made it so Bilbo couldn't go. Kíli ends up going, but he comes back all right, along with his brother, though they were in separate places, whatever they are called. 
> 
> Thorin's actually a veteran of the Second Angelo-Boer War, where Frerin died, and suffers from old war wounds of both the physical and psychological kind.
> 
> *~*~*~*
> 
> ...'Plot of Your Favorite Book'..........
> 
> HOW THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO TURN _Black Beauty_ INTO AN AU???
> 
> *headdesks*


	17. Plot of your Favorite Book (Teen, Bilbo/Bofur)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is the Prince's Groom and he wishes he were a simple Dwarf's instead.
> 
> (In-Story Warnings: Forced Engagement, Perceived Death, Near Drowning, Mention of Abusive Relationship)
> 
> (Other Warnings: Full Plot is _not_ used, Author uses the F-word in the end notes, Author Was Lazy and didn't want to figure Orcs and Elves and Dragons and Wargs in, but put everything else in, Shamelessly Pulled Dialogue from Movie-version of second favorite book)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late.
> 
> I would rather do Western and Steampunk again.
> 
> (Also, not the complete plot, but too tired and just...it was long. Should've done _The Little Match Girl_.)
> 
> (Landry is the Master of Laketown with a name.)

Bilbo was raised on a farm in the country of Arda, like most Hobbits, where his only source of joy, beyond reading of faraway lands (which was a tainted joy with the knowledge he would not ever go there) were riding his pony, Myrtle, and ordering the Dwarf that helped around the farm, Bofur, to do various chores.

And despite knowing the Dwarf’s name was Bofur, he never called him that, only “Dwarf.”

But no matter the order, Bofur would merely smile and answer, “As you wish.”

Bilbo was often thrown by this and was amazed to discover that, every time Bofur was saying “As you wish,” what he really meant was, “I love you.”

Bilbo was further shocked to discover that he loved Bofur back and began to search for orders he could give Bofur so that the farm boy could be around him more often.

And always with a soft and gentle, “please.”

Their first kiss was equally met and Bilbo’s heart soared with love, beating anew to beat in time to Bofur’s.

Bofur was, however, poor and he wished to earn his fortune before he married Bilbo and so he went off across the sea to do so.

However his ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who never left any survivors.

Bilbo, upon learning this, locked himself in his room and swore to never love again, his heart turning dead within his chest.

*~*~*

Five years passed and Bilbo found himself the unwilling groom-to-be to King Smaug, a tall thin Man with golden eyes who had everything a King could desire, except for someone to rule at his side, though he never seemed to want, nor need, that before.

It must be known first, however, that King Smaug was a vain man, who desired above all else only that which was most beautiful and rare.

This included clothes, furniture, and, most especially, his future spouse.

When it became known King Smaug desired a spouse many princesses, and princes, were brought to him, but he turned them all down, for none fit the idea of Most Beautiful.

By invoking “Divine Right of the King”, he ordered his most trusted nobleman, Count Azog (a tall, pale, Man with six fingers on his right hand) to find one who fit most beautiful within the borders of his own kingdom.

Count Azog rode for many days, getting shorter and shorter tempered as the days passed until he came across Bilbo’s farm and found Bilbo.

Without Bofur around, and with no one else to take his place, Bilbo had taken over the bulk of Bofur’s chores till they could find someone. In the early morning light, the sun came through and made his hair glow like fiery gold.

“Tell our King we’ve found his prize,” Azog ordered one of his men, and he quickly agreed before he, and a few others, rode back to the castle to tell Smaug of Bilbo.

A fortnight later, a great company rode forth and Smaug asked Bilbo to marry him.

Bilbo, whose heart had been closed off with Bofur’s death, knew that he was in no position to say no, had no way to say no without insulting the King and agreed, with a pale face and tired eyes.

Smaug, however, didn’t seem to care and instead allowed Bilbo to pack up what he couldn’t spare and even bring Myrtle with him.

He was then dragged to the palace where he was turned into a proper future Consort for the king and within the month, he was introduced to their future subjects as the future consort to the King, but in the meantime as Prince Bilbo.

And when he looked up at King Smaug, Count Azog standing close at his side, Bilbo knew that he did not love him.

And that he never could.

*~*~*

The moment he was allowed, Bilbo took Myrtle out for a ride. He went over trails that he wished he could have ridden under different circumstances, only for Myrtle to squeal and rear up slightly, dancing to the side as three men stood in the way.

One was a brooding Dwarf with long black hair pulled back and a close cropped beard. Another was a giant of a Man (who Bilbo suspected was more than _just_ a Man) whose arms were crossed over his chest.

The last was the reason Bilbo nearly sent Myrtle galloping back to the palace.

He was a mouse of a Man, greedy eyed and with a hunch to him that spoke of long hours curled over a desk counting gold. “Excuse me sir, we are but poor, lost, circus performers and were wondering if there were any villages nearby where we could earn our keep,” the hunched one asked, and Bilbo tensed slightly, even as he leaned back slightly, prepared to run.

“There’s not anything nearby. There’s nothing for miles,” Bilbo answered, internally cursing his politeness.

“Then there will be no one to hear you scream,” the greedy Man stated and before Bilbo could scream, the giant of a Man had reached over and pinched the back of his neck and all Bilbo knew was darkness.

*~*~*

“What are you doing?” Thorin asked as he watched Landry rip apart one of the uniforms.

“This is the uniform of a soldier of Namor, the sworn enemy of Arda! When the King finds this, he will immediately go towards Namor’s shores. When he finds his future consort’s body on the Namorian fields, he will immediately declare war on Namor!” Landry stated excitedly, even as he turned the pony around and sent her galloping towards home, though both Thorin and Beorn the Giant stilled at the statement.

“You never said anything about killing anyone,” Beorn stated.

“I hired you to help me start a war, which is a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition,” Landry stated as he headed toward the ship.

“I still don’t think it is right, killing an innocent Hobbit,” Beorn stated as he settled Bilbo on a small nest he had made of thick blankets.

Landry stilled and turned on Beorn. “Have I gone mad or did the word _think_ just escape your lips? You were not hired for your brains, you hippopotamic land mass!” Landry snarled, even as Beorn’s eyes narrowed.

“I agree with Beorn,” Thorin stated as he hoped onto the ship and Landry whirled on him.

“Oh the penniless smith has spoken! When I first met, you were so broke, you couldn’t even buy week old bread, let alone anything to feed three extra mouths!” Landry snarled and then he turned to Beorn.

“And you! Hopeless, helpless, brainless, friendless! Do you want me to send you back to where you came from, unemployed, in _the Bad Lands_?” Landry bit out and Beorn gave a sharp shake of his head.

Landry turned to Thorin, whose lips pressed together in a thin line before he shook his head as well.

“Then we’re done! Get ready to sail!” Landry snapped as he headed for the bow.

Thorin and Beorn shared a look before getting about to their duties. They weren’t happy, but what could they do?

Thorin had three others to feed, aside from himself, and Beorn scared too many people to get work and this was the only way to get out of the Bad Lands.

So, despite their personal feelings, they got to work.

*~*~*

Bilbo stared at his captors as they sailed through the water.

Thorin, the swordsman (though he said, twice, he was a smith, Bilbo knew how a smith moved and how a swordsman moved, and Thorin, though he may have the skills of a smith, was a swordsman through and through), kept glancing behind them while Beorn seemed to focus on trying to get Bilbo to eat.

Landry just seemed content. “Why do you keep doing that?” Landry demanded when Thorin glanced over his shoulder for the sixth time.

“Are you sure nobody is following us?” Thorin asked.

“It is completely inconceivable. Nobody in Namor knows what we’ve done and nobody in Arda could have gotten here so fast,” Landry brushed off before he frowned and focused on Thorin.

“Why do you ask?” he questioned.

Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh at that.

“Well, it is just that I keep looking over my shoulder to find that someone is there,” Thorin answered calmly.

“Inconceivable!” Landry exclaimed as he rushed up to look behind them, followed closely by Beorn and Bilbo glanced over the side.

“Perhaps it is just a fisherman enjoying a late night cruise in eel infested…waters,” Landry stated and Bilbo realized that his disappearance wouldn’t be enough to start a war.

Without a second thought, he threw himself into the water and immediately began to struggle to keep his head above water while swimming towards the second ship.

They couldn’t be much worse than his captors.

“Damn it! Move that thing and…that other thing!” Landry shouted as Bilbo continued to swim as best he could, which wasn’t very good at all, when a shrieking filled the air.

Bilbo spluttered as water filled his mouth and he coughed as he struggled to keep above water, fear starting to curl through his chest.

Hobbits were not meant to be in deep water for a great length of time and Bilbo was already starting to slowly sink, as Hobbits were wont to do. “Do you hear that sound Highness? Those are the shrieking eels. They always grow louder when they are about to feast! If you swim back now, I promise, no harm will come to you. I doubt you’ll get such an offer from the eels,” Landry stated, even as Bilbo tried to swim away, only for an eel to curl close to him.

His gasp of surprise was cut off by water flooding his mouth.

He coughed as he managed to get above water, treading away as best as he could, even as an eel began to charge him and Bilbo mentally prepared himself for pain only for the eel to shriek as a sword was sunk into his head and a large hand grabbed him by the back of his clothes to haul him out of the water.

Bilbo coughed and sputtered, even as Beorn carefully settled him on the deck while Landry immediately shooed both away, Thorin wrestling an eel onto the deck.

A dead eel.

“I suppose you think yourself brave,” Landry taunted as he rubbed Bilbo’s hands.

Bilbo pulled his hands away from Landry. “Only compared to some,” Bilbo responded evenly despite how cold he felt.

His breath wasn’t even showing in the air and Beorn immediately lifted Bilbo up again. “Come little bunny,” Beorn stated, even as Landry sputtered.

Bilbo just shuddered and shivered in the giant’s arms, wondering how large the Man had to be to hold Bilbo so effortlessly in the crook of his arm.

*~*~*

“He’s gaining on us!” Thorin shouted as the dawn spread across the sky.

“It is too late, see? The Cliffs of Insanity!” Landry shouted as he pointed in the opposite direction and Bilbo wondered who this ‘fisherman’ was.

“I think he’s using the same wind as us,” Thorin mused.

“It doesn’t matter! Get the harness on Beorn!” Landry ordered, even as he tugged Bilbo over so he could tie Bilbo’s wrists tightly together.

Once that was done, he hooked Bilbo’s arms over Beorn’s head so Bilbo was hugging the Man’s neck, carefully, the elbow hooked around the back, sideways across Beorn’s chest. Landry was settled at Beorn’s side and Thorin was on the other.

Once they were set, Bilbo noticed the rope and realized that someone else must have helped them for it to be there.

And then Beorn began to climb.

Bilbo felt an illness creep into his stomach and he closed his eyes before burying his face into Beorn’s neck, carefully, his ears rushing with the sound of his heartbeat.

“Shhh, shh. It is all right little bunny. I won’t let you fall,” Beorn soothed, even as Thorin’s amazed voice of, “He’s climbing the rope!” cut through Bilbo’s brain.

But he just clutched tighter to Beorn.

“Go faster!” Landry demanded.

“I am,” Beorn responded shortly and Bilbo gulped as he felt Beorn pick up speed.

But then they were at the top of the cliff and Bilbo was kept to Beorn’s arms while Landry knelt down to cut the rope and then it was gone, over the edge. Bilbo trembled and Thorin went to the edge. “He’s clinging to the rocks,” Thorin stated.

“What? Inconceivable!” Landry stated and Bilbo huffed.

“Stop using that word. You aren’t using it properly,” Bilbo stated and Landry turned to him.

“Your life is on a blade’s edge, your Highness. I’d have care of how you speak. And it doesn’t matter! He’s obviously seen us with the prince and therefore must die! If he falls fine, if not, the sword,” Landry ordered, even as he turned to Beorn.

“Come,” Landry demanded and Bilbo turned to Thorin who had drawn his sword and Beorn immediately came over to Thorin.

“Be wary, my friend. Strange men in masks are not to be trusted,” Beorn stated.

“I’ll be fine,” Thorin stated and Bilbo frowned.

“Be careful,” the Hobbit added softly.

“Get over here Beorn!” Landry ordered and Beorn quickly retreated to Landry’s side.

Bilbo held on, even as he saw Thorin begin to go through practice steps.

*~*~*

Thorin sighed as he waited, impatiently, for the other to climb to the top of the cliff. He walked back to find that the other had barely moved.

Dressed in black and wearing a mask, as both he and Beorn had observed from earlier while Beorn climbed, Thorin didn’t want to just let the other fall to his death.

It didn’t seem right.

“Can you speed things up? I am in rather a rush to kill you,” Thorin stated.

“Well that certainly puts a damper on our relationship, but unless you have a tree branch or a rope or _something_ to make yourself useful with, I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait,” the other answered, even as he got himself another handful and hauled himself up.

“I hate waiting,” Thorin muttered and walked away before he came back.

“I have some rope up here,” Thorin stated.

“Well, as you are waiting to kill me, I’m afraid I wouldn’t trust that rope,” the other stated.

“What if I gave you my word as a Dwarf?” Thorin asked.

“No good. I’m afraid I’ve known too many Dwarves who are not the honorable sort,” the other answered.

“I swear on the soul of my father, Thráin, you will reach the top alive,” Thorin stated.

The other stilled than stared up at him. “Throw me the rope,” he demanded.

(Thorin was surprised to find the other was a Dwarf. He was even more surprised when he was bested in the following swordfight. And when he woke with an aching head, and a sick feeling in his stomach, he realized that there were now two people that were not blood who knew of his desire to kill the six-fingered man who killed his father.)

*~*~*

“Inconceivable!” Landry snarled.

“Give me the Hobbit and finish him your way!” Landry snapped as Beorn, hesitantly, placed Bilbo on the ground.

“My way?” Beorn questioned.

“Hide amongst the rocks and when the masked man’s head comes in view, hit it with another rock!” Landry demanded.

Beorn frowned, even as Landry began to practically drag the Hobbit after him, Bilbo stumbling over the rocky terrain, glancing fearfully over his shoulder back at Beorn.

And then Bilbo released his acidic wit upon Landry.

*~*~*

Beorn was an honorable Man and threw a warning rock, instead of doing what Landry wanted him to do.

(When he woke after being defeated, he made his way in the direction of where Thorin had fallen, only to find Men on horseback there and no Thorin in sight, forcing Beorn to retreat.)

*~*~*

Bilbo bit back a sharp sound of pain as he was shoved onto a rock and Landry bound him tightly before he blindfolded Bilbo. “Damn it! Stubborn, stubborn! Bad as a Dwarf,” Landry hissed and shoved a gag into Bilbo’s mouth, tying it tight enough to dig into the soft corners of Bilbo’s mouth.

The sound of a knife leaving its sheath made Bilbo tense.

“And a Dwarf it is,” Landry stated, even as he pressed the blade to Bilbo’s throat.

“Well, it is down to you, and down to me, Dwarf,” Landry stated.

“I want no trouble,” the Dwarf stated and something about that voice niggled at the back of Bilbo’s brain.

His keen Hobbit hearing, made only stronger with the removal of one of his senses, could clearly hear the Dwarf walking forward.

“Well, that’s a bit of a problem, for you want what I have rightfully stolen. And you’re killing him,” Landry stated and Bilbo inhaled sharply in pain as the felt the blade press harsh enough to cut skin.

The footsteps stopped dead.

“Then we are at an impasse,” the Dwarf stated.

“Quite right, for I am not match for your strength and you are no match for my wit,” Landry stated.

“You think you’re clever then?” the Dwarf asked.

“Quite,” Landry answered.

“Then may I propose a challenge?” the Dwarf asked.

“A battle of wits?” Landry responded.

There was silence followed by a second question from Landry. “To the death?”

More silence.

“I accept,” Landry crowed and the knife was removed.

There was a sound of wine being poured. “Inhale but do not touch,” the Dwarf stated and Bilbo tried to see if he could get his hands free while distracted.

“I smell nothing,” Landry stated.

“What you do not smell is iocane powder. Oderless, tasteless, and dissolves instantly in liquid,” the Dwarf stated and then there was the sound of the wine goblets being moved.

Silence and then the Dwarf spoke.

“All right, where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide and then we’ll both drink. Only then will we find out who is right, and who is dead.”

Landry began to wax poetic about choices and the goblets. He gasped about something behind the one who approached and then they drank. Landry began to cackle, crowing over how much more intelligent, before he suddenly cut off mid laugh, followed by a thump.

Bilbo sat there in the silence for a time before the blindfold was slowly removed to find him staring at a Dwarf dressed in black, the mustache familiar, but large and hair hidden under the scarf.

Then the gag was removed and Bilbo wigged his jaw while the Dwarf then cut his bonds, rubbing circulation back into his hands. “He should have drunk from the bottle,” Bilbo stated and the Dwarf nodded.

“I’ve spent the last five years building up an immunity to iocane powder,” he stated, as if Bilbo should care before he leaned down to cut the rope around Bilbo’s ankles.

Bilbo didn’t hesitate to kick out and twist off the stone before he took off. There was a Dwarven curse and then he was being hefted up. “I’m afraid, your Highness, that you’re stuck with me,” the Dwarf stated and began to drag a struggling Bilbo away.

*~*~*

“Catch your breath,” the Dwarf ordered as he threw Bilbo into a rock.

Bilbo barely caught himself in time to keep from striking his head and turned to the Dwarf. “If it is ransom you want, I promise you, you will get it,” Bilbo stated.

“And what is that worth, the promise of a Hobbit? You’re very funny your Highness,” the mysterious Dwarf stated.

Bilbo shook his head. “I was giving you a chance. No matter where you take me, there is no greater hunter than King Smaug. He can find the white wolves that leave no tracks in the snow, he can find you!” Bilbo stated.

“You think your dearest love will save you?” the Dwarf mocked.

“Do not assume to know my heart, for King Smaug is nowhere close to touching it!” Bilbo retorted.

“You admit you do not love your fiancé?” the Dwarf asked, walking close to Bilbo, who tensed.

“He knows I do not,” Bilbo responded.

“Incapable of love is what you mean,” the Dwarf snarled.

Bilbo immediately stood up straight and tall. “I have loved far more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream,” Bilbo stated and flinched when the Dwarf’s hand flew up, as if to backhand him.

Smaug’s own hand flew more than once when Bilbo had made his opinion known a few too many times.

The strike never came.

“That was a warning _Highness_. The next time my hand flies on its own, for where I come from there are penalties when another lies,” the Dwarf stated and then he grabbed Bilbo before hauling him off after him.

*~*~*

They had been running for another hour before Bilbo was tossed to the ground near a steep hill.

“We can rest here,” the Dwarf stated as Bilbo panted and trembled from the physical excursion as well as the fear.

“You’re the Dread Pirate Roberts, aren’t you?” Bilbo questioned in a chilly tone.

“Quite. And what can I do for you?” the Dwarf asked.

“Die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces,” Bilbo responded.

The pirate tsked at him and shook his head. “Why loose your venom on me Highness?” he asked.

“You killed my one true love, you murdered my heart. I think I’m allowed to unleash all the poison I wish upon you,” Bilbo answered.

“Possible. I kill a lot of people. Who was he, this…heart of yours? Was he another Man like this one? Ugly, old, rich, and scabby?” Roberts asked.

“No! He was Dwarf who worked on my farm! He was poor! He was poor and perfect, with a laugh that could chase the rainclouds away,” Bilbo answered softly and he stared out across the hills.

He smiled at the thought of Bofur, who coaxed a smile out of Bilbo after his parents died and who had been the one to have Bilbo’s heart truly begin to beat.

The death of Bofur ended all of that and he looked back at Roberts, who was staring down at him, his stance guarded.

“On the high seas, your ship attacked and the Dread Pirate Roberts never leaves any survivors,” Bilbo snapped.

“Well, that’s true. Once a pirate makes exceptions, it’s nothing but work, work, work all the time,” Roberts stated and Bilbo let out a soft sound before he looked away.

“You mock my pain,” Bilbo stated.

“Life is pain, your Highness. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something!” Roberts snapped.

Bilbo bit back his words at that, swallowing them down.

He had known life was pain before Bofur’s death.

Bofur’s death just reaffirmed it.

“I think I remember this farm Dwarf of yours. This would be, what, five years ago? Would it bother you to hear?” Roberts asked and Bilbo immediately focused on him.

“Please…” Bilbo answered softly and the Dwarf seemed to shiver at that.

He nodded and began to pace, slowly. “It would please you to know there was no blubbering or bribe attempts. He just said one thing. “Please. Please, I need to live.” It was the please that caught my memory. I asked him what was so important. “True love,” he replied and then he spoke of Hobbit of surpassing beauty and faithfulness, I can only assume he meant you,” Roberts stated and Bilbo hunched over on himself, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the tears at bay.

He had no money to leave Arda and he was now sullying Bofur’s memory and the knowledge that Bofur’s last thoughts had been about him, to plead for his own life with using Bilbo. Of using Bilbo’s unwavering love and loyalty in waiting for him.

And Bilbo had turned those words into lies.

Because he could not wait for a dead Dwarf.

He would marry another, give another what he would have given Bofur, but what choice did he have?

Smaug wanted his prize consort, and he would have it, no matter the price of it in the end and Bilbo had not been willing to risk the family members he loved to wait for a Dwarf that would not return.

“You should thank me for destroying him before he found out what you really are,” Roberts continued.

“And what am I?” Bilbo snapped as he surged to his feet.

“Your faithfulness, Hobbit, your enduring faithfulness! Now tell me truthfully, did you wait a week out of respect for the dead or did you get engaged to your King the same hour?” Roberts snarled.

“You mocked me once, never do it again! I _died_ that day!” Bilbo snapped out and the Dwarf seemed to still at that, eyes widening behind the mask.

There was a horse cry in the distance and Roberts turned to stare up at the hill. Bilbo glanced up and saw the familiar sight of King Smaug on his favorite steed before he stared at the pirate.

“And you can die too for all I care,” Bilbo snarled and shoved him down the hill.

As the Dwarf tumbled down the hill, one sentence carried up to Bilbo.

“As you wish.”

The sentence curled around Bilbo and he felt his heart surge back to life. “Oh, Bofur,” he cried and then he glared before he, carefully, rolled down the hill to join him at the bottom.

He was going to have _words_ with his Dwarf.

*~*~*

Bilbo wasn’t very careful and he was dizzy and sick to his stomach when he came to rest at the bottom of the hill near Bofur, who had lost the mask and hair covering while tumbling down the hill.

“Bilbo, Bilbo are you all right? Can you move?” Bofur asked, curling over Bilbo.

“You…you…cursed Dwarf! You…you’re alive! You…” Bilbo sobbed out and clung to Bofur, running his hands over the familiar curling braids.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Bofur asked and Bilbo let out a choking sob.

“Why do you think I had an honest choice?” Bilbo answered and Bofur stilled before he carefully cradled Bilbo’s head.

“Oh, Bilbo,” Bofur breathed and then he pulled Bilbo into a kiss there at the foot of the very steep hill that brought them back together again.

*~*~*

There is more to the story, of course. There are lies and betrayal and a heart that is ripped apart by the vain desires of a King.

Revenge is sated and friends are reunited and love triumphs over all.

But the rest of that story will have to wait for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking hated the lead up to writing this AU.
> 
> Mostly because I spent most of yesterday trying to get _Black Beauty_ to work, then moved to _The Princess Bride_ and ended up using more movie-verse than book-verse because it flowed better for trying to keep it less than forty pages long.
> 
> Figuring out who to play who?
> 
> A nightmare.
> 
> Again, sorry this is late. Next should come eventually.
> 
> (Also, one day, eventually, yes, I shall write this in full. With more thought to it and more drawn out and be all awesomeness.)


	18. Elizabethan Era (Teen, Bilbo/Dwalin, Human AU, Historical AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Thorin's Company of Actors, Bilbo is one of three who can play a female role.
> 
> And, to add to that, he's the only adult.
> 
> (Homophobia)

Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh as he was helped into his dress for the performance. “I cannot wait for the day women are allowed on the stage,” Bilbo murmured softly.

“And why’s that?” Ori asked, his fingers dancing easily across the corset as he tightened it.

Thorin’s Company, as they were known, had only three who could play the female roles believably.

Fíli and Kíli, Thorin’s nephews (and Fíli soon wouldn’t be able to, his voice starting to have the edges of cracking to them), and Bilbo.

Bilbo, who was the only adult and many times he had been teased and tormented for it by the Company.

He put up with it, however, because Thorin’s Company paid the best.

“So I don’t have to keep playing the women,” Bilbo responded calmly.

“Well, I doubt that will happen anytime soon,” Dwalin stated and Bilbo turned to give his forbidden lover a look, ignoring the way Dwalin’s eyes swept up Bilbo’s form appreciatively.

Dressed as he was, Bilbo knew that Dwalin liked it, despite all of his tastes being strictly toward males, which was a well-kept secret within the company that they liked to pretend didn’t exist.

It didn’t help that Bilbo had the desired pale skin that began with their Virgin Queen, mostly because Bilbo was one of the rare people who refused to tan, which left the expensive pale makeup for the actors that were tanned, such as Dwalin.

Though Dwalin didn’t need the makeup this time, however, as in this he was playing an ostler who attempts to tempt the virtuous wife (Bilbo) away from “her” husband (played by Bofur, who likes to play it up by clutching at Bilbo and begging Bilbo not to betray their marriage so), and while the daughters (Fíli and Kíli) flirt with the warrener (Bifur) and the Shepherd (Ori) respectively.

It is a comedy, so nothing happens in either regard and ends in a duel to the death that doesn’t actually end in death.

It ends with Dwalin running off into the sunset while Bofur pulls his wife in for a deserving kiss.

Bilbo still doesn’t know how they get away with it, and while they aren’t the Queen’s favorites (Shakespeare really has that honor), they are popular enough.

Bilbo, now dressed in all the frippery of a woman, is left alone to mentally review his lines.

So he is quite surprised when he feels Dwalin wrap around him. “Dwalin,” he breathed.

“I was thinkin’, we could steal a bit of this, for a bit, during the off-season, head far away and maybe…maybe hide for a while,” Dwalin stated and Bilbo turned to look at him.

“What?” he breathed.

“Hide. No one will look, you keep hidden well enough, no one will ever learn you aren’t female,” Dwalin whispered and Bilbo wondered what it would feel like to walk with his lover down the street as lovers, or a married couple, instead of as friends.

“That sounds nice,” Bilbo admitted, knowing that if their little trysts were discovered, it would be Bedlam for them both.

But Bilbo thought it truly worth it.


	19. Futuristic (Teen, Gen, Firefly Fusion with Tolkien's Races)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's gotten used to having the little moonbrain around.
> 
> And then the little thing had to spoil it.
> 
> (Insanity, mention of self-imposed neglect)

Thorin stared at the little Hobbit that was part of his crew now, who was sitting at the edge of the walkway, swinging his legs through the air, hands resting between the knees so he could lean forward without falling off, hopefully.

Bilbo, who according to Elrond, his guardian, wasn’t even of age. Who had been caught by the Alliance through Elrond’s own actions, after swearing to Bilbo’s mother, and father, he would take care of Bilbo.

He could see the guilt practically rise off the Elf lord in _waves_ whenever Bilbo was nearby and in the way he did his best to fix the damage done to him by the Alliance.

“Thorin,” Bilbo stated and Thorin blinked himself out of his thoughts to discover the Hobbit was staring up at him.

“Yes?” Thorin answered.

“Your name fits,” Bilbo stated and Thorin chuckled before he sat down next to the Hobbit with a low grunt as the action pulled at his injuries he got from retrieving some of his stolen contraband last week.

“You think so little one?” he asked.

Bilbo nodded and went back to swinging his legs. “Don’t you think so?” Bilbo asked and Thorin gave a shrug.

“Depends,” Thorin answered.

His true name fit him, he felt, but his mask name had no meaning, merely a name that had been passed down through the generations on occasion.

Bilbo hummed before he looked into the distance, as if he could see something that escaped all other eyes. “Shield of all shields made of the perfect true heart. When do you think it doesn’t?” Bilbo questioned and Thorin felt all the air leave his lungs.

He slowly turned to face Bilbo, his mind practically numb after hearing the meaning of his True Name leave the Hobbit’s mouth.

A Hobbit knew his True Name.

One of the last beings in the ‘verse who should even know about the _concept_ of a True Name was one who knew his. “How do you know that?” Thorin demanded.

“That’s who you are,” Bilbo stated, sounding confused, even as Thorin’s heart tried to beat out of his chest.

“Like this is carrying Dimrill Valley and so it got all filled up with all of Dimrill Valley’s sleeping ghosts,” Bilbo stated.

Thorin frowned at that as Bilbo head began to jerk side to side. “Bilbo?” Thorin stated and twitched when Bilbo pushed a hand over Thorin’s mouth.

“Shhh. You don’t want to wake the ghosts up,” Bilbo stated and Thorin frowned behind Bilbo’s hand, even as Bilbo began to shake his head more vigorously and pulled away.

“Have to keep quiet,” Bilbo mumbled as he began to pull away from Thorin.

“Have to keep quiet or we’ll wake up the ghosts, and the ghosts won’t like that. They’ll come and they’ll rip out the memories that are kept buried deep, deep, deep inside and they’ll…they’ll make you bleed into the cold ground and leave you…leave all…all alone,” Bilbo continued with a trembling voice as he began to walk backwards toward the stairs.

Thorin slowly stood up. “Bilbo, I can’t have you disappearing on my ship again,” Thorin stated and Bilbo shook his head at Thorin’s words even as the Hobbit, somehow, tripped _up_ the stairs.

“Shh, shh. Don’t wake the ghosts,” Bilbo begged with a sob as he covered his ears, digging his fingers into his hair and, probably, digging into his skull as he knelt down and curled up on the walkway near Nori’s shuttle.

Thorin followed, stilling in front of Bilbo, who was trembling like a leaf in the storm.

Bilbo, who knew his _Name_.

Bilbo who never said anything about it except to Thorin himself.

Who kept it a secret when there were people who would _kill_ for it.

With that thought in mind, Thorin carefully crouched next to Bilbo before he began to wrap his arms around the Hobbit.

Bilbo thrashed a bit even as Thorin began to tuck the Hobbit’s head against his chest, right over his heartbeat. When that seemed to register within Bilbo’s brain, it caused the Hobbit to fall silent and still, the only sounds filling the air were from Bilbo gasping for air.

Thorin then shifted until he was sitting down, making sure to never release Bilbo.

He probably would have kept crouching if his injuries could take it, but already he could feel he would be regretting crouching at all.

Only when he was settled on the floor did he acknowledge the fact that it should be Elrond doing this, but he wasn’t there.

Thorin was.

And if Thorin _didn’t_ do something, his ship’s little moonbrain would disappear for the next week and reappear shivering, shaking, dehydrated and starving.

When the shuttle’s doors opened behind them Thorin could feel Bilbo tense and Thorin winced, internally, when Nori spoke.

“Thorin, I heard…”

Her words were cut off when Bilbo began to thrash and practically screamed about ghosts, again.

Thorin paused only long enough to throw a quick glare in her direction before he focused on Bilbo and began to work on stopping him from screaming.

While Thorin did, eventually, get Bilbo to stop screaming, he could not get Bilbo to stop whimpering.

Not even when Thorin urged Bilbo to wrap his hands around the lapels of Thorin’s brown coat, despite the fact that it was something the Dwarf had never allowed Bilbo to touch before and had, in fact, reacted quite viciously when the first, and last, time Bilbo had attempted to touch it.

Thorin sighed as he buried his hand into Bilbo’s curls and felt himself calm down slightly when Bilbo fell silent and pressed himself Thorin’s chest.

“Bilbo?” Thorin asked as he ran a hand through Bilbo’s curls.

“The ghosts are waking up. Make ‘em go away, make ‘em go away,” Bilbo whined as he pressed his free hand to his ear.

Thorin sighed and, carefully, stood up with Bilbo in his arms.

When he looked up from Bilbo, it was to the sight of Elrond standing at the doorway. “I think there was something you weren’t telling us,” Thorin stated, even as Bilbo’s cries about ghosts grew louder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this fusion has long been planned.
> 
> Yes, I have chapter one mostly written.
> 
> Yes, Dimrill Valley is Dimrill Dale which is the Battle of Azanulbizar.
> 
> Yes, Bilbo is like River.


	20. Prostitutes/Strip Club (Mature with Triggers, Genish, Courtesan AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the top of the Quarter of Pleasure stands a two story stone mansion with many colored shutters. The ones in the center, above the door, are the only green ones, and they mark the most exotic Courtesan the Gardens has ever nurtured.
> 
> (Mentioned Dub-Con, some Dub-Con, mention of D/s, Aftercare, Some Sexual Content, Possessive Behavior, Abuse, Mentioned Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Which Is Brought Up, Victim Blaming, Which Is Violently Dealt With)
> 
> ((If I miss anything, I apologize profusely and please forgive me and I WILL edit in what triggered you. The Dub-Con is more due to the fact Bilbo does something that makes him uncomfortable, and goes to be with someone who makes him uncomfortable, even though he has the option to say 'no' and doesn't.))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It got dark, fast.

The Gardens was a pale grey stone mansion stood at the top of the Quarter of Delight, shutters in different colors (pale blue for Elves, a medium shade of brown for Men, and a pale gray for Dwarves) facing the street, advertising what Race and the status of each Courtesan within the two-story building.

The front of the mansion, over the front door, however, was three shutters that stood apart from the rest in both color and design.

The one on the left was dark blue, with golden vines painted along the edges of the shutters, connecting the silver flowers in the corners. The one on the right was warm red-brown with purple forget-me-nots painted along the edges.

It was the one in the middle, however, that garnered the most attention.

The only shutters painted green stood out proudly against the stone, yellow wildflowers painted on the corners, and a window box bursting with color under it.

The Exotic Flower, it was whispered, the only Hobbit to become a Courtesan of the Gardens.

And, if rumor was to be believed, the only Hobbit to ever even enter a Profession of Pleasure.

*~*~*

Bilbo sighed as he worked on brushing out his foot hair, grumbling about being on the second floor, something he had grumbled about since he had ‘graduated’ to a being high-priced Courtesan, one of the best, at age 35, though Bilbo always doubted he was worthy of the title of Flower of the Gardens.

He had to have his shutters open within the hour and he wanted to be perfectly presentable before that time.

The knock at the door had Bilbo frowning and turning from his vanity to look out through his dressing room door. “Who is it?” he called.

“Ori.”

Bilbo immediately smiled and turned back to brushing his foot hair out.

“Come in Ori,” he called, adjusting his robe (a thick quilted thing made of multiple patches of color) to cover himself a bit better even as he heard his working door swing open.

“Where are you?” Ori called.

“Dressing room,” Bilbo answered and soon Ori was there holding Bilbo’s thin red ledger.

“Oh, Ori, who is in my red book today?” Bilbo asked cheerfully as, with a final brush, he switched feet.

“Well, first is Master of the Jewelers Guild, Hannar from the Iron Mountains, come to visit on a treaty expedition. He is hoping that you’ll be able to talk some today, but he was only able to pay for two hours, which will cut through your Elevensies, and Dori says you have to eat that this time,” Ori began and Bilbo chuckled.

“If he can, have Hannar join me at the top of Elevensies. The only thing that Dwarf loves more than a good pot of tea with crumpets is his craft,” Bilbo responded and sighed, pausing in his foot brushing to look up at Ori.

“Why does he like me so much anyway? I cannot talk his craft with him,” Bilbo asked.

“He says you rejuvenate his inspiration. If he could, I am sure he would buy up your contract from Dori, but he’s so enamored with his craft that it would make no sense,” Ori stated, even as he patiently waited for Bilbo to return to his foot hair brushing.

“After that, you’re free till after lunch, but Dori suggests that you keep your shutters closed,” Ori stated and Bilbo slowly looked up at Ori.

“Lord Smaug has requested that you set aside the time between Lunch and Supper, saying he’ll gladly join you for Afternoon Tea,” Ori stated and Bilbo sighed, even as he focused back on brushing his foot hair.

“He’s never broken the rules or hinted at it, so I shall say ‘yes’, but…” Bilbo answered and sighed, pausing.

“Dori won’t be happy if you’re forcing yourself to go through with Smaug’s advances,” Ori warned and Bilbo shook his head.

“It isn’t that. Smaug just always…unsettles me. Nothing he does or doesn’t do, he just…unnerves me. And he always backs off if I ask, and doesn’t get irritated if I tell him to take it slow. The rather large block of time he’s bought will encourage the patience,” Bilbo explained and Ori hummed.

“Lord Nivden has wanted to return. I am sure Dori could get word to him that you are free and Smaug could instead enjoy his time with one of the Elves,” Ori suggested, even as Bilbo shook his head.

“The only Elf he likes to spend time with is Laurefindil. The rest irritate him,” Bilbo corrected and Ori sighed and nodded.

“And he’s busy,” Ori muttered, even as he wrote something down.

“Lord Nar has requested you from seven to nine in the evening, but he did add he was available for almost all of today, but looking at your schedule with such blocks of time reserved, you don’t have time to do a proper clean-up. You’d have to steal a room for Hannar and you like him too much to do that. However, Tatharphen is back in time and he expressed a deep desire to have you from seven to closing,” Ori answered and Bilbo perked up at that last name.

“Tatharphen? Really? Did he show up in person, or was it a runner?” Bilbo asked eagerly, brushing his foot hair one more time before he set the brush on the foot care table next to the lotion bottle there.

“In person, last night. He was quite sad you weren’t available, not even for half-an-hour,” Ori stated and Bilbo chuckled even as he began to wash off his hands before moving to work on his hair, leaning into the vanity mirror.

“What time is it Ori?” Bilbo asked and Ori glanced over his shoulder at the clock.

“Fifteen to seven, in the morning,” Ori reported and Bilbo huffed.

“Think Dori will be upset if I start late?” Bilbo asked.

“Not particularly. Lord Anar had you hired for three days. He _was_ going to let you have today off, but I think you brow-beat him into letting you work,” Ori answered and Bilbo nodded.

“I barely got five hours of sleep and if I weren’t so worried about missing an appointment, I’d nap,” Bilbo muttered and Ori frowned.

“Do you want me to mark Tatharphen in or no? He said he could come tomorrow,” Ori stated and Bilbo shook his head.

“I will see him tonight,” Bilbo promised.

He hesitated in his combing of his hair and added, “I’ve missed him. He’s not nearly around here long enough for us to enjoy our time together for long,” Bilbo admitted softly and went back to working on his hair.

“All right. Do you want to go over tomorrow’s possible guests now or do that during lunch?” Ori asked.

“Lunch, please Ori? If not, I don’t think I’ll have my shutters open in time,” Bilbo stated, even as he quickly finished off his toast as he worked on his hair.

“All right. See you at lunch then Bilbo,” Ori stated and walked out of the dressing room.

As the young Dwarf stepped out of Bilbo’s suite of working rooms, Bilbo could hear Ori shout, “Laurefindil, Dori wants a word with you!”

This was followed quickly be a click and Bilbo shook his head a bit before he cleaned off his face and leaned in, checking everything over one more time before he shut his dressing room door and threw his robe over the back of his seat, heading to the hanging outfits.

Now, what to wear?

*~*~*

Bilbo’s gauzy, almost elven, top of white was accented only by the pale green vest and long brown trousers whose hems _just_ hovered over his ankles.

It was picked purely because it showed far too much collarbone to be proper, for a Dwarf, and because Hannar occasionally brought a necklace as a gift, something that usually ended up being the only thing Bilbo was wearing by the end of Hannar’s visit.

A bell rang fifteen minutes to eleven and Bilbo, who had been enjoying the cool breeze, immediately shut his shutters.

It was time to prepare for Hannar.

*~*~*

Bilbo lazed happily amongst his sheets, soaking up the last few minutes before Hannar had to start moving, daydreaming that the arm resting over his waist was his to stay (a daydream he wouldn’t share with a soul), when he suddenly felt Hannar moving.

Bilbo turned, concern curling through his chest at the way Hannar was leaning over him. His hair had started going gray recently, but under that it was a deep ruby red. His beard was still braided up and back, into his hair, which tumbled over his shoulders while staying out of Hannar’s face, but tickled Bilbo’s skin. “What is it?” Bilbo asked and Hannar tapped the necklace he had made for Bilbo, where it covered Bilbo’s collar bone.

Gold set with emeralds, it was gaudier than Bilbo liked, but Hanner, like the other Dwarves Bilbo had had in the past, who came more than once, like to show off their craft to him.

They had rarely come back as often as Hannar, however.

“I’m married to my craft. Most any Dwarf that will lie with a Courtesan, or lesser, is. But you almost make me forget that, and it’s a lie, isn’t it? Because you aren’t mine and there will be another in this bed later, possibly more than one, and no matter how much I pretend, there won’t be,” Hannar stated and Bilbo felt a cold certainty curl in his gut.

Dwarves are possessive, and suddenly Bilbo understands why the other Dwarves did not come back as often as Hannar.

Instead, Bilbo just reached up and pressed the back of his hand against Hannar’s temple and smiles. “I’m sorry,” Bilbo offers and Hannar collapses on him, pressing his nose into the hollow of Bilbo’s throat.

He leaves early, cleaning himself up instead of letting Bilbo do so and Bilbo tugs his lightweight robe on, even as he slips the slats open, but keeps the shutters tightly closed.

He rings the bell for the servants of the Gardens to whirlwind through his quarters and clean it to perfection, as well as leave him out a lunch and Bilbo disappears into his dressing room and the bath that is already waiting.

He sets the necklace on the vanity and already knows that he will not cry till tonight, safely hidden away in his little house in the back.

If Smaug sees red eyes, it will _not_ end well.

*~*~*

“Bilbo?” Ori called and Bilbo, who was dressing in fine silks and see through cloth, called back, “Be out in a minute Ori.”

He immediately tugged a clean lightweight robe over everything with a high collar and makes his way out, the thing fluttering around his calves. “Oh, good, lunch,” Bilbo murmured and he settled at the table while Ori settled across from him.

“Smaug wants to have you be his guest the rest of the week,” Ori stated as Bilbo began to eat his chicken salad.

Bilbo sighed and frowned at Ori. “Why does he want me? He’d have an easier time with any of the Elves or Men,” Bilbo asked.

“Because you’re the only Hobbit this side of the Misty Mountains and probably beyond that is in this line of work,” Ori answered and Bilbo smiled and gave a nod as he worked on polishing off his salad.

He waved for Ori to follow him to his dressing room, tugging on a cord as he moved so he could finish getting ready.

He settled at the vanity while Ori opened up the ledger. “King Fengel has returned. He’s requesting you, but I think he won’t really care so long as it is one of the Flowering Jewels,” Ori stated and Bilbo sighed, nose scrunching slightly at the title he and the other two that framed him were given.

“He’s greedy and vile and I hope he gets blacklisted soon,” Bilbo mumbled and Ori nodded in agreement as Bilbo applied a light coating of face powder to his face.

“One of King Bard’s people asked for you,” Ori stated as Bilbo began to carefully apply some kohl around his eyes.

“Which one?” Bilbo asked.

“Count Gamn,” Ori answered as Bilbo huffed a soft sigh over that while he began to add faintly colored powder to his eyelids.

“Gamn…Gamn…isn’t he the one who is friends with the Master of Laketown?” Bilbo asked as he began to add some color to his cheeks, though still quite pale.

“Yeah. How did you know?” Ori asked.

Bilbo hummed as he added some color to his lips. He then stood up and slipped behind his screen, shucking off his covering to get dressed in Smaug’s favorite outfit, because currying favor before having it be known Bilbo wasn’t going to stay as his guest for a week was always a good plan.

“Sorry, but Smaug does prefer me to be gussied up more than I like. And I know because Gamn talked about him. Said ‘this is all thanks to my good friend, the Master of Laketown,’ but I didn’t get it,” Bilbo stated as he carefully let the clothing he had already put on drop to the floor in messy piles, kicking it aside.

“Ori, the time?” he asked as he began to pull it out, all silk and gauze.

“You have thirty-five minutes,” Ori promised and Bilbo thanked him.

Smaug didn’t care for the gender of his Courtesans, but he _did_ like the feminine look and loved the feeling of silk. So, even though he hated them, he was pulling on the silk stockings and beribboned garters that started the whole outfit, followed by his smalls, and then the fancy corset. He clipped the garters to the bottom of the corset as Ori continued to talk about the various nobles (the Dwarf Lord Anar wanted to see him again, Lord Bevon of Gondor was back in town, an Elf that called himself Meorof wished to see him before he left at the end of the week, even for an hour, and Lord Neros, of a distant realm) who requested him at various times.

“Give them a time please. We’ll let down Smaug easy,” Bilbo answered as he wrapped a low cut, barely covering him at all, robe around him as he slipped his feet into soft slippers, wincing at how uncomfortable it was, and he drifted out, ignoring the ribbons that fluttered around him.

“That’s sounds like an…oh,” Ori answered and Bilbo glanced over at him to see Ori staring in surprise at how Bilbo looked.

His mouth was even open slightly and Bilbo reached over to tap Ori’s mouth closed by his chin before he opened a drawer of his vanity, glancing at the clock on the wall in relief to see that he still had ten minutes.

He pulled out the collar of silk and bells that were stitched onto it and tied it, carefully, around his neck, the entire thing resting comfortably from the top of his neck to touching his collarbone.

“Was there anything else Ori?” Bilbo asked.

“I’ll…I’ll continue during dinner,” Ori stuttered out and scrambled out, while Bilbo ducked his head apologetically.

He’d apologize to Dori, and Ori, later.

Instead, Bilbo focused on brushing his hair and quickly rushed out into the main room, thankful to see that all of Smaug’s favorite things, including sheets, had been put out.

He reminded himself to leave a tip for the servants even as he closed his dressing room door.

*~*~*

Bilbo let out a low whimpering gasp as he settled more firmly into Smaug’s lap, facing the taller man, but finally closer to his face, and shivered as Smaug ran a blunt fingernail along Bilbo’s ear.

When Smaug curled his fingers around the ear tip and then _flicked_ , Bilbo couldn’t stop the buck if he tried and let out another whimpering gasp as he did so. “If you aren’t careful, my Hobbit, you’ll find that you’ll soil your small clothes, and you know how I feel about that,” Smaug teased softly, even as he nipped, gently, at the other ear tip and Bilbo let out a low cry of pained pleasure.

Smaug’s hands soon came to rest on his thighs and Bilbo trembled as Smaug’s thumbs slipped under the garter belts. There was a soft ringing and Bilbo resisted the urge to let out a moan, realizing it was time for Afternoon Tea. “Aren’t you going to tell them to come in?” Smaug asked.

“The door is locked for privacy, remember?” Bilbo questioned, though it was hardly locked to any of the servants, who knew the catch to use to get it open, along with all the guards.

Really, even if it was, it was such a sad sort of lock that Nori could pick it within five seconds.

Smaug huffed against Bilbo’s collarbone.

“Can’t we just leave it?” he asked.

“Afternoon Tea. It is a requirement for Hobbits,” Bilbo answered softly, even as he pressed his forehead to Smaug’s jawbone, making another gasp sound as Smaug shifted him slightly, before he let him go.

“If it is a requirement of Hobbits,” Smaug teased and Bilbo smiled at Smaug, even though he hated being teased for his eating habits.

However, he slipped off and resisted the urge to whimper at the feeling of his smalls dragging across his erection. He barely managed to straighten to open the door, the Woman servant hesitant to enter and quick to leave once she delivered the tray.

Bilbo felt sorry for Mirabelle, especially since she rarely had to deliver to anyone while they were in the middle of having a guest.

He immediately resettled on Smaug’s lap with a smile that felt more painted on than his face. “Now, how do you like your tea?” Bilbo inquired as he nuzzled his nose along Smaug’s jawline, earning a low chuckle from Smaug, even as long fingers began to dance across the corset.

*~*~*

Bilbo sighed as he scrubbed himself clean in the tub, all of Smaug’s gifts to Bilbo sent for cleaning already.

“Bilbo?” Dori called and Bilbo groaned.

“In the dressing room Dori! Sorry about Ori earlier, but Smaug is Smaug,” Bilbo stated, even as he ducked under to continue cleaning off all of the powder he had put on his face, as well as the lotion and the phantom feeling of stockings off his legs and feet.

He came up for air with a gasp and started when a hand rested at the base of his skull. “At ease Bilbo, just me. Tatharphen is here early and I figured you would want help preparing, especially as he paid extra for possible overtime…and recovery charges,” Dori stated.

“Ah,” Bilbo stated, knowing immediately what Dori spoke of.

“An intense game then,” Bilbo hummed and smiled as Dori began to massage his scalp.

“After a long day with Smaug on top of it, I don’t like it,” Dori retorted.

“Tatharphen always takes good care of me, Dori. He’ll make sure I am okay,” Bilbo answered and Dori huffed even as he rinsed Bilbo’s hair out.

“Fine. If you need anyone, you know what cord to pull,” Dori stated, even as he helped Bilbo out and wrapped a far too big towel around him.

“Dori, I’ll be fine, promise,” Bilbo stated and Dori huffed before he, gently, knocked his forehead to Bilbo’s.

“Very well. But tomorrow you are taking off, no exceptions. Take the cart, go to the market. Two Big Folk, as you call them, in one day is one too many, in my opinion,” Dori grumbled and Bilbo sighed and nodded in agreement.

It would do no good to argue twice.

*~*~*

Bilbo shivered from exertion, even as Tatharphen coaxed water into him and hummed softly. “Are you all right?” the Elf asked softly even as Bilbo nodded.

The rose scented water, warmed, was nice to feel cleaning him off and it was _nice_ to be taken care of. Tatharphen nuzzled into Bilbo’s hair briefly, even as he worked Bilbo’s limp limbs into the thick cotton robe Bilbo had hung for this purpose, having fully cleaned the Hobbit up.

He then carefully stood and settled Bilbo on the plush loveseat and covered him. “Sleep well, and may Lórien guard your dreams,” Tatharphen whispered and he slipped out the front door, even as Bilbo passed out.

*~*~*

Later, Bilbo would neither hear Nori enter, nor feel the tri-peak haired Dwarf scoop him up gently to carry him to his little cottage in the back of the Gardens.

*~*~*

Bilbo smiled as he settled in the light cart and Ori fretted slightly. “Shouldn’t someone go with you?” he begged.

“Ori, I will be fine. Besides, everyone is needed here,” Bilbo stated as the cool sunlight of early spring burned through the early morning mist.

Ori fussed a bit more, emulating his eldest brother, and Bilbo laughed lightly. “Don’t worry Ori,” Bilbo stated and Ori backed off. Bilbo then clicked his tongue and flicked the reins lightly, sending Myrtle walk briskly toward the gate Bifur, a Dwarf who only spoke the Dwarvish language, held open.

“Thank you Bifur,” Bilbo called and Bifur called back before he shut the side gate behind the cart.

Once Myrtle was to the main road, Bilbo whistled and flicked the reins once more and the chestnut pony broke into a fast-paced trot.

*~*~*

Bilbo smiled as he hopped down from the cart, paying the ostler to take good care of Myrtle before he pulled his empty basket out of the cart and turned to the market.

He easily slid through the crowd, greeting those he knew and perusing various items. He found a flower seed vendor early and was eagerly perusing them when his sharp Hobbit hearing picked up the sounds of a _very_ one-sided fight.

Paying for the flower seeds, Bilbo went to an umbrella vendor and bought one of their rain umbrellas.

It wasn’t one of the Bracegirdle’s umbrellas (reinforced, hidden blades), but it would do in a pinch.

He swung it lightly around and headed in the direction of the fight, sighing when he realized it was four Men to one Dwarf.

Specifically, two Men holding down a Dwarf who was being beaten on.

What had he said to piss those Men off, Bilbo could not say, but it was obvious he had said _something_.

Bilbo shook his head before he placed his basket at the mouth of the alley, out of the way and immediately moved forward, snapping the umbrella against the back of knees of the nearest Man, causing him to collapse.

He didn’t hesitate to twist the umbrella around and hit him once in the solar plexus with the handle before he turned to the next, using momentum to knock the Man flat on his back before he turned to find the Dwarf had sent the other two flying.

“I didn’t need help,” the Dwarf snapped and Bilbo felt his heart stutter a bit.

This Dwarf, like most Bilbo had met, was handsome. His beard was close cropped, speaking of mourning, though the rest of his hair was long with various braids decorating it, though they were all clasped with plain beads, which meant the desire for autoimmunity.

He was a noble, at least, who was bleeding from various wounds he had suffered and Bilbo resisted the urge to laugh at him, especially as his two Men were unconscious on the dirty floor of the alley.

“Oh, I could tell. Two Men right on top of you, two Men beating on you, oh yes, you were about to turn the tide,” Bilbo stated and the Dwarf growled at that.

Bilbo smiled and then gently grabbed the Dwarf’s wrist. “Come along. Let’s get you cleaned up and then you can head home,” Bilbo stated, pausing to scoop up his basket before he headed to the tavern where Myrtle resided.

It was the closest place that would allow him access to their healer kit.

*~*~*

“Hold still you big Dwarfling,” Bilbo scolded as the Dwarf (since he refused to give a name) tried to pull away from Bilbo’s ointment smeared handkerchief.

“I can take care of myself,” the Dwarf growled and Bilbo hummed before he carefully hooked his fingers over the Dwarf’s collar and tugged him forward, careful to not touch his hair or beard.

He did lean quite close, however and continued to tap the ointment along the Dwarf’s brow. “I can tell,” Bilbo drawled and the Dwarf glowered at him.

Bilbo ignored it and, once that was done, set the ointment stained handkerchief to the side before he pulled out a third handkerchief (earning a scoff from the Dwarf) from his pocket. This one was one had flowers embroidered around the edges and Bilbo folded it before he carefully pushed it against the Dwarf’s temple.

Then he grabbed the Dwarf’s hand and had him hold it there. “I was hoping it would clot over sooner, but it was just refusing to do so for you, wasn’t it?” Bilbo stated and the Dwarf glared.

Bilbo smiled and began to pick up his things, even as he packed up the healer’s kit and left the coin to pay for what he had used.

“Was that so bad?” Bilbo asked over his shoulder.

“I could have taken care of it myself,” the Dwarf snarled.

“Oh, what is it with you Dwarves and your pride? It is going to bring about someone’s downfall, the way you lot keep going. It isn’t a bad thing to have someone help you on occasion. And those Men would have taken everything you owned except, maybe, the clothes off your back. You would have known that if you had listened. Those four have been causing problems in that area for a while now. Even have tried to corner me a few times. Tired, mostly because I am not one to be easily cornered,” Bilbo stated as he picked up his basket again.

“Good-bye Master Dwarf. I hope we can meet again under more pleasant circumstances,” Bilbo stated and walked out.

Myrtle was harnessed to her cart soon after Bilbo appeared in the yard and, with a whistle and a flick, they were off again.

*~*~*

Weeks passed since Bilbo met the Dwarf (who still had his handkerchief) and Bilbo had found, after his day of rest, that he was very busy.

As the Ball Season drew closer, Ori began to organize the requests for Courtesans to be an extended guest at a noble’s home.

A great deal went into the pile to be ignore, but the rest were sorted by Courtesan, Ori frowning when he realized only three requests ended up in Bilbo’s basket, which was normally filled to the point that Ori had to use the extra baskets under his desk.

His frown deepened when he found that all three were written by Smaug. “Dori,” Ori called and Dori immediately bustled over, if only to join in frowning when Ori showed his eldest brother the three requests.

“This is all?” Dori asked and Ori nodded.

Dori sighed and looked toward the ceiling. “Who is Bilbo with now?” Dori asked.

“An Elf; Mormerileth. She’s been waiting patiently for Bilbo for a while,” Ori explained.

“Lunch is after that. I’ll talk to him then,” Dori stated and tapped the requests against Ori’s desk.

Ori just nodded and focused on sorting the rest, noting that those who usually requested Bilbo were to be found in other piles instead.

*~*~*

Dori didn’t hesitate to bring a tray that would fit over the tub to Bilbo, who was soaking in the warm water.

“That’s not a good sign,” Bilbo mused softly.

“Who else do you have today?” Dori asked.

“Smaug has me till supper again, and then someone I haven’t met before has me for the hour after supper, then I am free,” Bilbo responded.

Dori scowled at that. “He’s the only one who has sent you requests for the Ball Season,” Dori stated and Bilbo sat up slightly in the tub.

“What?”

Bilbo’s voice cracked on the word and Dori merely nodded.

“For the maximum time allowed, three weeks. He has followed all protocol in that he will have you, as his guest, for the maximum three weeks, followed by the one week of required rest, followed by another three weeks. The third request is of the similar vein. And he’s the only one. By policy, you either have to accept, or find yourself without work for the entirety of the Ball Season and he knows it,” Dori explained and his face turned vicious.

“He turns my own rules to protect _my_ Courtesans against me and there’s nothing I can do to stop him!” Dori hissed.

The idea behind having a Ball Season off was so those who wished to could take it off and enjoy time to themselves.

As per the contracts Dori had written up, their percentage was well watched and guarded by Nori. Many had enough to buy out their own contracts of work and still have enough left over to start a business or travel someplace else, Bilbo among them, but few did.

Dori only kept Courtesans who had chosen this life of their own free will and those who hadn’t were servants instead, or taught a trade to get them out.

The silver haired Dwarf prided himself on taking good care of his Courtesans and he did not like that someone had taken these precautions and turned them against him. “What about the lawyer you know? Can’t he do something?” Bilbo asked softly and Dori sighed.

“Only if you accept. If you don’t, it is considered null and void, but I have a feeling Smaug is doing something to insure he gets you to himself,” Dori stated with a scowl, obviously not like that thought.

“He can’t do that,” Bilbo stated, even as Dori gave a small shrug.

“Nothing in your contract would suggest that, but Smaug could easily scare of those and basically make use of the clause in your contract that speaks about a Regular who gets a certain number of hours, in a row, with the Courtesan has the option to begin the process of buying your Contract,” Dori stated and he flinched at how Bilbo paled.

Dori nudged at the tray and Bilbo began to eat while Dori continued his explanation.

“Normally this wouldn’t be something we would be worried about, but if Smaug is using fear tactics to scare away potential people who would otherwise engage you, he could eventually bring in a lawyer in himself to press the issue of that clause, which shouldn’t even be in there. I hope I can get in to see King Bard during the next open court to see about getting that law appealed after the Ball Season, but…” Dori stated, only to trail off.

The problem with working in a Man’s city was that, even in regards to the Courtesans, they did not work to protect anyone in the Quarter of Delight.

Dori sighed and focused on Bilbo once more. “In the meantime, I’ll line someone up after Ball Season,” he stated.

“Or hope he does something to get himself blacklisted,” Bilbo responded and Dori shook his head at Bilbo.

“I would really rather combat it within the words of the Contract then have you laid up over a blacklist action,” Dori stated.

Bilbo sighed and nodded.

With no hesitation, Dori leaned over to press a kiss to Bilbo’s hair. “Be careful,” Dori stated and left.

He already knew what Bilbo would choose.

*~*~*

As Ball Season came upon them, Bilbo found himself being helped up into a carriage painted a vivid green with golden designs stamped into the very wood that marked one of the Flowers of the Gardens heading out for the length of the nobles’ Ball Season.

“And our last little one,” Nori stated.

Bilbo smiled as he carefully accepted the wooden traveling birdcage and placed it on his lap, the song thrush sitting quietly within.

A rarity, considering that the thrush loved to fly about and often fought getting in the cage for travel, even when it was Bilbo doing the asking.

Today, however, he had hopped right in and even now remained quiet. “I don’t like it when he does that,” Nori muttered as he hopped in across from Bilbo.

“I don’t either. It usually precedes bad things,” Bilbo stated as the door was shut.

Nori grumbled and soon, they were off.

Bilbo was the last of the Flowers to leave the Gardens, each having an animal of their own for aid should they need a quick getaway, and each being accompanied by Nori so he could have a rundown of the place if he needed to go inside the house to retrieve them because they could not come outside.

“Well, let’s just hope she’s wrong,” Bilbo stated.

The song thrust merely trilled out her song and Bilbo smiled, even as they began the long and winding trip to Smaug’s estate just outside the city.

*~*~*

Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh as he finished twisting the final decorative hairpin into his hair (red and gold flames that would not only keep his hair out of his red powder dusted eyes, but accented his curls in a way that could only have been done through borderline stalking level observation) before he stepped back to look in the Man’s body length mirror in his room within Smaug’s mansion.

The blood red of the suit was a slightly frightening color, but the theme of the ball was colors and Smaug got red, so it fit.

The trousers were longer than Bilbo particularly liked, but the looseness of them made what should have been unbearable, bearable.

The jacket of the suit fluttered around mid-thigh and closed nearly up to the neck, though it allowed the shockingly white ruffled cravat to settle pleasantly under Bilbo’s chin and, all together, he was comfortable within his own skin.

So long as he didn’t think about Smaug, otherwise his concern and wariness would rush back in a sudden wave that threatened to drown him.

Smaug had been oddly reserved for the past week and Bilbo was starting to be worried. While he liked having it easy, as it were, Smaug had never been so…reserved.

It was worrying, but any questions of concern had Smaug just smirking and distracting Bilbo until he forgot his question, which just added to Bilbo’s wariness.

“Everyone, I think, is going to be quite envious tonight,” Smaug stated as Bilbo settled in the coach next to him.

Bilbo just smiled even as he began to draw nonsense symbols across Bilbo’s outer, and inner, thigh.

*~*~*

“May I present Lord Smaug and Courtesan Bilbo,” the chamberlain called.

Bilbo was grateful, the moment that they stepped through the door, that Smaug was not twice his height, as it meant Bilbo’s head reached Smaug’s ribcage.

While the height difference was almost scandalous, Bilbo’s exoticness as a Hobbit more than made up for it. As it was, however, any dancing they would partake in would be awkward despite Bilbo’s training and experience.

“Lord Dager, how wonderful to see you again,” Bilbo greeted as he and Smaug drifted past one of the elderly Dwarves.

In the days when Bilbo could barely call himself a Courtesan, Lord Dager had been one of Bilbo’s common guests, though Smaug didn’t need to know that. “Bilbo,” the Dwarf answered and Bilbo smiled back, even as Smaug swept him past.

Smaug was calmer around the ladies, though more than a few had leaned down to press a kiss to Bilbo’s lightly rouged cheeks.

Everyone was a various color, some repeated (two others had red, but did not nearly grab at it to the extent Smaug had), others odd enough to have people laughing at the name while somehow miraculously pulling it off.

Laurefindil had Smaug’s grip on Bilbo’s hand tightening to the point of near bruising when he swept over in his pale blue Elven robe to kneel down and press a kiss to Bilbo’s cheek. His golden hair fell down in waves and more than a few pins sparkled throughout his hair. “Bilbo, dear, what a pleasant surprise! Lord Smaug, do you mind if I borrow Bilbo for a bit, of course you don’t,” Laurefindil stated and immediately ushered Bilbo away.

Bilbo, who was very close to snapping at Laurefindil.

Bilbo, who was probably going to end up smacking the golden haired Elf, hard, if he didn’t cut it out.

“Must you?” Bilbo asked, even as Laurefindil swept Bilbo into a seat while he sat across from his fellow Flower.

“Must I what? Spare you Smaug? Of course,” Laurefindil stated and Bilbo gave him a sharp look.

“Laurefindil…” Bilbo warned, even as the Elf immediately shifted to look over to where Smaug was turning to talk politely to King Bard, showing all proper reverence a Lord showed his King.

“I don’t trust him. He’s like a snake, only slimier and with teeth and less of a personality,” Laurefindil stated.

“Laurefindil!” Bilbo hissed and the Elf waved Bilbo off, even as he smiled and called to the one he was guest to, who smiled and waved back.

“Lord Nairen?” Bilbo asked when his eyes finally landed on the Man Laurefindil seemed to be miming to.

“Quite. I like him, he’s polite and he enjoys sneaking out to do scandalous things in the back rooms,” Laurefindil answered.

“Must you try and get Dori to put you on property restrictions?” Bilbo questioned, even as Laurefindil turned to smile at Bilbo.

“Always. It is fun,” Laurefindil answered and Bilbo shook his head.

Laurefindil looked about ready to protest when he suddenly grinned. “Oh, Laurefindil,” Bilbo protested, even as the Elf pulled Bilbo out onto the dance floor for a whirl.

A more folk dance, it was usually played whenever anyone wanted to show off how fast they moved and reminded Bilbo (painfully) of the Shire.

He was soon laughing and dancing as he and Laurefindil spun around each other, unaware of how Smaug’s eyes narrowed at their dancing forms.

*~*~*

The pain exploded across Bilbo’s face the moment they got through the door to his rooms.

He hit the ground with a grunt and twisted to glare up at Smaug, only to find himself being lifted up off the ground, the Man snarling. “Did I give you permission to go off and dancing with that bit of fluff?” Smaug snarled and Bilbo felt his eyes narrowed even as one swelled shut.

“I don’t need it. You may have paid for my services, but that doesn’t mean you own me,” Bilbo responded.

He let out a surprised sound as he was dropped onto the hard ground cried out as a kick sent him into the foot of the bed, before Smaug grabbed him by the hair, Bilbo’s scalp sparking dangerously with pain.

“Till you go back to the Gardens, I think you’ll agree that I _do_ ,” Smaug snarled.

Bilbo didn’t hesitate to scratch down Smaug’s face and when he was dropped, was already prepped to move.

He just didn’t expect Smaug to recover as fast as he did as he was snagged around the waist and slammed onto the bed.

Bilbo, however, had been well-trained by Nori and was already twisting out of Smaug’s furious and half-blind grip.

Outside the window, Bilbo’s thrush took flight.

*~*~*

Nori frowned as he slipped into the dark mansion. Bilbo wasn’t waiting outside, but as the thrush had no note or ribbon or anything else to carry, Nori had suspected that Bilbo would be unable to.

He danced through the darkness and soon found that Bilbo’s room was in shambles.

And there was blood.

He began to search Bilbo’s room, but soon discovered Bilbo wasn’t there and began to continue to look out.

He bit back a snarl at torn fabric, but continued till he found a door that was locked. He knelt down next to it and immediately picked it before he opened it.

Nori barely dodged the heavy candlestick in time and was surprised find it wielded by a trembling, bleeding, and bruised Bilbo.

“Bilbo,” he hissed and Bilbo turned with a swing, low and practiced.

Nori barely had time to catch it so he could dart forward to wrap an arm around Bilbo and whisper the secret word in Bilbo’s ear.

The response was immediate, Bilbo collapsing against him in relief, trembling violently. Nori carefully placed the candlestick on the ground and scooped Bilbo up, who wrapped his arms around Nori’s neck in response even as he let out low sounds of pain. “Before you ask, no, he didn’t rape me, but he tried,” Bilbo stated.

Nori nodded once, even as he headed for the window.

Time to get out.

“At least he’s blacklisted,” Bilbo whimpered out.

Nori wished he could laugh at the way Bilbo looked to the silver lining, but he couldn’t. “For a start,” Nori stated, even as he landed on the ground, wincing as he jolted Bilbo.

Bilbo only hissed with pain.

*~*~*

“What’s the worst of it?” Dori asked as Laurefindil stepped out of Bilbo’s back cottage.

“Three broken ribs. They nearly punctured his lungs, but through the luck Eru blessed him with, they didn’t and I managed to get them set with the smallest amount of pain,” Laurefindil stated as he flexed his hand.

“What else?” Dori asked.

“Some of his hair was ripped out, but he’ll be able to cover it. Half his face was swollen, but nothing was broken, thankfully, in his skull. He has internal bruising, but nothing serious, and he somehow twisted his ankle. There are lacerations all over, from nails, maybe, or something else. Other than physical wounds, however, he is untouched. He didn’t lie to Nori,” Laurefindil continued and rubbed his eyes before he looked back at the cottage.

“He’ll be fine, given time, but it will take months of healing,” Laurefindil stated.

“And we’ll take it out of Smaug’s _hide_ ,” Dori promised with a vicious snarl, just as Ori rushed up.

He stilled upon seeing his brother’s rage, but Nori took over. “What’s it Ori?” he asked.

“There’s a Dwarf here. He’s saying that he has something of Bilbo’s and was wondering if he could return it,” Ori stated.

“No Dwarf has anything of Bilbo’s,” Nori stated.

“Well, except the one Bilbo helped out of a jam and gave his handkerchief to so some blood could be stemmed from a head wound,” Laurefindil stated.

“Ori, he can leave it at the desk,” Dori stated, even as he turned to address one of the servants.

“He’s insisting on ‘in person’,” Ori stated.

Dori sighed and turned to Ori. “Just tell the Dwarf to leave it at the desk, Ori,” Dori.

“You tell him. The Dwarf is the King of Erebor,” Ori answered, even as he looked to the cottage.

*~*~*

Thorin had been in the Quarter of Pleasure once.

It had been a nice experience, he had spent most of it talking, and that was that. Learning that the Halfling he had run into was a Courtesan at the ball yesterday had surprised him.

When he had travelled, he had discovered that Hobbits saw Professions of Pleasure as the lowest sort of work, and none would lower themselves to it. And he had not thought twenty years so great a time to have them change their minds.

They believed in soaking in their simple pleasures, which included drifting off and waking up in the arms they would spend the rest of their lives with.

Hobbits, when drunk, spoke of what they wanted with great longing and Thorin had found it frighteningly easy to deposit the guilty “Took” at home, though he constantly spoke of his nephew and how he failed him.

Thorin had listened with a pained heart and returned home shortly after that, having two nephews of his own who needed him.

“Your Majesty,” a voice greeted and Thorin looked over to find a silver-haired Dwarf walking in.

“Thorin, please,” he answered.

“Thorin, policy is to leave the items at the desk…” the silver-haired Dwarf began to explain, only to get cut off by a Man running in.

“Dori, sir, I’m afraid…Smaug’s out of our jurisdiction. So long as he stays out of the city, we can’t even grab him. He’s technically on land that is subject to Ereborian law,” the Man stated and Dori threw his hands up.

“How does…what…He tried to _rape_ one of my Courtesans and you’re saying you can’t do anything?” Dori demanded.

“But I can,” Thorin stated and Dori stared at him.

“Lord Smaug is on land under my jurisdiction. I can guarantee he won’t like what Dwarves do to rapists. The only requirement is that the one who was attacked come bear witness,” Thorin stated.

“He can’t be moved! He has three broken ribs!” Dori protested.

“And nothing happened, according to the reports,” the Man stated and Dori leveled a vicious glare at him, along with Thorin.

“Dwarves don’t see a difference between someone who tried and failed and someone who tried and succeeded,” Thorin rumbled out.

“And something _did_ happen! That _something_ has one of my Courtesans unable to work for the next eight weeks, at best!” Dori snapped and the Man, a guard, nodded, though he did not look pleased.

Thorin frowned at the Man before he turned to Dori. “We cannot hold Smaug for long and he will run,” Thorin stated.

Dori sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I cannot move him,” Dori stated.

Thorin frowned more and sighed. “I could,” came another voice and Thorin looked over to find a golden-haired Elf standing there.

“I could make it safe to move him. Myrtle is surefooted and there is the cart you use for fragile items that has little bounce. How long could you hold Smaug?” the Elf asked softly.

“A week,” Thorin answered, even as the Man began to sputter slightly.

“Over this for some _whore_? The whore probably asked and when it got to intense, attacked one of _our_ …” the Man protested, but Thorin soon had him on his back and was holding the Man to the ground by his neck before Dori could get around the counter.

“Do not disrespect a provider of a needed service in my presence ever again or the consequences will be far more severe,” Thorin stated and took a deep breath, though he did not let up his grip.

“Now as you are woefully uneducated, allow me to explain something. A payment of a service does not mean that the one providing the service is _owned_. Jewelers, miners, prostitutes, or courtesans in this case, all provide services that are paid for and, within reason, comply with the orders given. A miner will not go into an unstable mine shaft, however, and a courtesan will not do something that they feel uncomfortable with and a jeweler will not work with an improperly cut gem and the only difference between it all is the services rendered. Am I clear?” Thorin asked.

“He still asked for it,” the Man hissed and Thorin smacked the Man’s head, once, into the stone floor, but not hard enough to knock the man unconscious.

He would feel it, however.

“The Courtesan is not at fault for the actions of the one who paid him! A ‘no’ is honored and met with another option. To blame the one attacked makes you an accomplice by Ereborian law and, had I arrested Smaug already, you would be joining him and share his fate,” Thorin stated before he released the Man.

“Get out before I have to stand witness for your murder trial,” Thorin stated as he turned to focus on the pair, the Elf eyeing the Man with a vindictive gleam in his eyes.

“No,” Dori stated.

“Just one finger?” the Elf asked.

“No. Tempting, but no,” Dori responded and the Elf sighed and leaned back.

“So, you’ll arrest Smaug?” Dori asked.

“And in one week, when your Courtesan comes, he’ll be punished by Ereborian law, as his estate is on Ereborian land. How does a Dale lord get Ereborian land?” Thorin responded.

“Country home, technically. He doesn’t like living in Dale, but Dale’s lands stretch towards Greenwood and Erebor’s lands brush right up against the edge of Dale. He wrote for the approval, and pays his land taxes to Erebor while his title taxes go to Dale,” Dori explained.

Thorin nodded, even as he eyed the area. “I have a request, however,” he stated and Dori tensed.

“Yes?” Dori asked.

“Allow me to see Bilbo after all of this is done so I may return the handkerchief?” Thorin requested.

“You’ll see him in a week, your Majesty,” Dori stated and then waved at the Elf, who turned and slipped through a door that disappeared into the wall, even as Thorin winced.

“My apologies for disturbing his healing,” Thorin stated.

“Please, don’t. If you hadn’t, Smaug never would have been punished,” Dori stated and Thorin nodded before he turned on his heel and left.

*~*~*

A week later, Smaug was punished by Ereborian law, his lands and wealth falling to the Crown of Erebor for the Crown to do as it wished while the title was vacated for King Bard to give to someone who was worthy of the title.

Thorin returned the handkerchief to Bilbo, who thanked him softly.

“I hope to meet again under pleasanter circumstances,” Thorin stated.

(They did, when Thorin came to offer the Gardens Smaug’s mansion, on top of bringing Bilbo his monetary reimbursement for the work Smaug forced him to miss.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the AU that refused to end. In the end, I had to just end it, so if it feels rushed...that's because it was. I may, one day, expand this, with lots of horrible past for Bilbo to explain why he's in a Dale in this very strange AU.
> 
> But probably not.
> 
> (Also, Ereborian punishment for rapists is very graphic, very bloody, very gory, and very much something someone can live through, but they will wish they hadn't.)


	21. College (General, Gen, Human AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erebor University is big and sprawling and Bilbo's only companion is his service dog, Myrtle.
> 
> Oh, and the wind, can't forget the wind.
> 
> Who knew finding his on-campus apartment would be so Yavanna blessed difficult?
> 
> (Disabled Character, Character with Mobility Assistance, Mention of Reconstructive Surgery on Legs, slight allusion to PTSD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late. I'll try to get "office" up on time.

Bilbo let out a long sigh as he wheeled down one of the many concrete paths that crisscrossed the great Erebor University campus, his only companion, besides the wind, his service dog.

The larger than average, spayed, Greater Swiss Mountain dog named Myrtle wore a backpack harness as she walked next to the wheelchair, her leash attached to the hook on the left arm rest. As they rounded the main building, Bilbo let out a groan upon the discovery that he had wheeled himself in a rather large, twisted, circle.

“Why can’t this be _simple_?” he demanded of the air, even as he began to wheel himself to the side.

“Whoa,” he ordered as he stopped and Myrtle immediately circled around to sit in front of the wheelchair.

Bilbo locked the wheels and he pat the arm rests, Myrtle coming up to balance on her back legs, her front paws come to rest at the very front of the seat carefully avoiding Bilbo’s blanket covered legs. “Good girl,” he praised softly as he fished the papers out of her nearest pocket.

He probably should have kept the map, and other papers, with him, but he had thought he could find his way.

As going in a circle had proved to him, this was not the case. “Down,” he ordered and Myrtle immediately dropped down to sit hunched as close as she could get to Bilbo’s foot rests while he tried to figure out where they were in regards to on-campus housing.

After four minutes of searching and turning the map around, Bilbo bit back some unsavory curses, his hands creasing the map as the pain from his reconstructed legs (and no, that didn’t make him feel self-conscious at _all_ ) echoed through his mind.

“Yavanna bless it,” he hissed softly and Myrtle let out a low whine.

He let out a breath and then he turned his map about a bit. “Ah, there’s the Dale Apartments,” he stated and folded up the map before he tucked it into his inside jacket pocket with the papers he retrieved from Myrtle instead of returning them to her harness.

He needed them, unfortunately.

Once settled he took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “Heel, Myrtle,” he ordered and waited for her to be in position before he unlocked his wheels.

Only then did he begin the long journey to the Dale On-Campus Apartments.

*~*~*

“Bilbo, did you get lost?” Belladonna asked as Bilbo wheeled out of the elevator on the second floor of the Dale Apartments.

“I thought we agreed to call it going on an adventure?” Bilbo returned as he headed towards her.

“Quite right! I’ve met your roommate. I like him,” Belladonna answered and practically skipped into the room.

Bilbo smiled at that, especially as Belladonna hadn’t…

He shook his head viciously and maneuvered in, followed closely by Myrtle. Standing in the middle of the ‘living room’, just past the kitchen nook, was his mother, smiling at an odd hat wearing man that couldn’t be much older than Bilbo’s eighteen, going on nineteen, years, with a mustache and a goatee, braids curling up on either side of his head.

He was an individual and Bilbo was willing to bet at 10 to 1 that his roommate was majoring in one of the Social Sciences.

He did have an advantage, considering that Dale Apartments housed those of the Social Sciences, Sciences and Technologies, and Performing Arts.

“Bofur, this is my son, Bilbo, that I was telling you about!” Belladonna suddenly greeted.

Bofur turned grinning and relaxed, though he started slightly when Myrtle came out from behind the chair. “Is that a dog or a pony?” Bofur asked and Bilbo couldn’t help it.

He laughed.

It seemed he and his roommate were off to a good start after all.

Bofur, unlike Bilbo's relations, did not stare.

(Bilbo would remember to thank his mother later.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this will be expanded. While writing it I came up with lots of fun plots, but after other things are finished.
> 
> I, personally, want to get a lot of things finished.
> 
> I have a feeling this will start up right as I start finishing up a few others that are close to being finished.
> 
> Well, close is a relative term, but they are closeish!
> 
> Anyway, what AU should I do for Day 30?
> 
> Like, sequel to previous one-shot I've written AU.
> 
> Except Princess Bride (or _The Hobbit Groom_ as I'll call the expanded version).
> 
> Also, while I am asking opinions, I reserve the right to go, "No," anyway, but I would like to start writing Day 30 now so it will be up on time.


	22. Office (Teen with Triggers, No Pairings, Human AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin was the prickliest person Bilbo had _ever_ had the misfortune of working temp for.
> 
> Were it not for the debt inured from his parents' medical bills and funerals, he probably would not stay.
> 
> (Mentioned Canonical Character Death, Claustrophobia, some Fear of Flying, Panic Attacks, some PTSD, Pranking Gone Wrong, mention of money problems, Mention of Infidelity)
> 
> (Side Pairing: Bofur/Nori)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a word of caution; I, the author, triggered myself while writing this.
> 
> Please proceed at your own risk.

Bilbo sighed as he read over the pdf file Balin Fudinson, Thorin Durin’s regular personal assistant, had loaded up onto Bilbo’s tablet, mentally making note of what he was going to have to bring with him on Monday as opposed to what would already be there.

He would need to buy another travel mug for the Irish Breakfast Tea, and he would have to make double what he usually made in the mornings. It mentioned it would have to be strong, with a good splash of milk, which was how Irish Breakfast Tea should be handled anyway, and a cheese Danish, to which Bilbo wondered if his temporary boss was eating enough to get through the day.

As he honestly didn’t know a place that would sell either that was within his price range (the tiny cottage he lived in outside of town that he could barely afford even with the inheritance from his parents’ deaths made said price range quite small), he decided he would just make the Danishes.

He flipped down the file to the ‘Things You Can Bring That Will Get You On Your Co-Workers’ Good Sides’, and found that bringing food, especially good pastries, would at least get them to not pull pranks on him the first day.

Bilbo sighed softly at that and buried his hand into his hair. “Lovely,” he muttered, remembering the last time he had been pranked by the regular workers.

Three weeks without lunches and constantly having to check his chair to make sure it wouldn’t collapse out from under him had not been fun in the slightest, but it was a job.

By Eru, when was the last time he had had a vacation?

His administrator, Gandalf, knew of his financial troubles that had come from paying for both of his parents’ rather large hospital fees, not to mention the funerals, and had made sure to always have a job lined up either right after or shortly after the first ended.

The idea of going through six _months_ of that was not something that Bilbo was looking forward to as Balin went off to who knew where.

He scrubbed at his skull and sighed.

He’d deal.

It would be fine.

Now…to make those Danishes.

*~*~*

“Who do you think the temp is?” Kíli asked.

“Who cares? Uncle will drive whoever it is off within the week. Sooner because whoever it is, that poor soul is taking over for Balin,” Fíli answered, still upset over the last temp Uncle had driven away from Erebor Tech.

He had hoped to get her number too.

“Aww, don’t be like that big brother. I am sure…” Kíli soothed, only to be cut off by the ping of the elevator.

They turned as one to look over to find a short man, dressed in two piece, nice fitting, black suit with dark green tie and curly hair walk off, easily balancing an unmarked box and two travel mugs of tea.

A bag was over his shoulder and he was frowning a bit as he walked down the hallway before he seemed to just shake of his bad mood and smile hesitantly at the two brothers. “Ah, hello. I’m Bilbo Baggins. I’ll be temporarily taking over Balin Fundinson’s position. I was wondering, where is the break room?” he asked and Kíli practically zeroed in on the box.

“What it is?” he asked.

“Um…Danishes. Various kinds. I already put aside the cheese Danishes for Mr. Durin,” he stated and they both perked up at that.

“So, these are ours?” Kíli asked slyly while Fíli inched forward.

“Well, for all the workers on the floor. I was told that there was a break room, but I don’t know where it is,” Bilbo stated, already curling around the box protectively.

Oh, well that would not just do at all and the brothers immediately began to plot how to get revenge on Bilbo being smart enough to dodge their first prank.

“Down the hall, to the left, says break room on the door.”

The cheerful Irish brogue that interrupted the brothers’ plotting had come from the stairway and Bilbo immediately turned to face the newcomer while the brothers scowled at Bofur.

“Can’t miss it. Bofur Broadbeam and what is this?” he inquired, immediately zeroing in on the box in Bilbo’s arms.

“Bilbo Baggins and Danishes,” Bilbo answered and Bofur immediately wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders, leading him to the break room.

“If they are half as good as my brother’s, then this will be the start of a very beautiful friendship Bilbo Baggins,” Bofur answered while the brothers plotted vengeance.

*~*~*

Thorin scowled as he came into the office to find who could only be Balin’s temporary replacement standing there, waiting for him, an unfamiliar travel mug in one hand and a plate with a large Danish on it in the other, a bag over his shoulder. “Mr. Durin, I’m Bilbo Baggins. Pleasure to meet you. Here is your Irish Breakfast tea and your Danish,” he greeted and Thorin merely eyed the short man before he took both and began to walk.

Surprisingly, Bilbo fell into step and pulled a tablet out of the bag that hung over his shoulder. “Balin wished for me to remind you that you have that ten-thirty appointment with your cousin Dain, followed by an eleven-twenty appointment with Adalinda Smaug. You are free till ten-thirty, however, there is a man in the lobby who has been calling up to try and get an appointment in with you, someone name Bard Crowne? He says it is very important,” Bilbo rattled off and Thorin found himself grudgingly impressed while simultaneously very irritated.

Greyhame Temporary Agency did have a habit of sending people who could actually do the jobs needed, but Bilbo seemed to be trying to overcompensate. “You ever temped like this before?” Thorin asked as they stepped into his office.

“Yes, sir. What should I do about Mr. Crowne sir?” Bilbo responded.

Thorin mentally wondered over that as he bit into the Danish, momentarily surprised by how much tastier it was than normal, but at the same time rankled over the fact Bilbo hadn’t gone to the bakery that was near the office.

“Next time, just leave the Danish and tea on my desk. And tell Bard he can come up,” Thorin answered and Bilbo nodded, tapping at his tablet.

“Yes, sir. Anything else sir?” Bilbo questioned.

“I’ll need the files for my meeting with Dáin,” Thorin stated.

“On the desk, sir, by your left hand,” Bilbo stated and Thorin glanced down at the carefully placed file folders.

Thorin was, faintly, impressed with the fact Bilbo had placed them far enough away from his hand, and the edge, that they wouldn’t accidentally fall, though the pile was higher than it should be for Dáin’s folders.

“The files you need for your meeting with Ms. Smaug are under the ones for your meeting with Dáin,” Bilbo stated and Thorin nodded.

“Have Bard brought up then,” Thorin stated and Bilbo nodded, his curls bouncing before he turned and quickly walked out.

Five minutes later, Bilbo was showing Bard in and already had one of the plain white mugs with coffee from the break room in Bard’s hand. “Will that be all, sir?” Bilbo asked.

“That will be all Mister Baggins. I’ll call if I need you,” Thorin answered and Bilbo nodded to Thorin politely before he nodded to Bard and quickly left, shutting the door behind him.

“Who is he and why isn’t Balin here?” Bard asked.

“He’s unimportant, just a temp. What did you need to see me about Bard?” Thorin responded, focusing on Bard.

*~*~*

Bilbo had been working at Erebor Tech a week and he already knew it was going to be a _long_ six months.

Fíli and Kíli, two of the designers who worked on the floor (meaning they worked with cutting edge technology), had taken it upon themselves to ‘initiate’ Bilbo after that first day.

The second day he had left his tea unattended only to come back and find it had had salt added to it.

In an attempt to keep that from happening again, he had tried to carry it with him, which had earned a frown of disapproval from Thorin and so Bilbo moved it to the drawer where he kept his lunch, which had been cleared out by Balin for him.

The third day, nothing happened.

The fourth, or Thursday, he had found honey spread throughout the drawer and effectively forcing Bilbo to spend his lunch cleaning out the drawer and not eating his lunch, which he was forced to throw away, as well as just clean his travel mug all over, surprised and not to discover they had ruined his water refill after he finished his tea with salt as well.

It was Friday he discovered it was them by catching them sneaking away from his desk, glancing nervously at Thorin’s office door the entire time.

They ruined his lunch with…something that day. He didn’t want to know, he just threw it away, leaving him without a lunch.

The worst of it, though, was the fact that Thorin seemed to absolutely despise him.

He found fault in everything Bilbo did, because he didn’t do it like Balin.

Not that Thorin said that to Bilbo’s face, but by Friday, Bilbo wanted nothing more than to quit and forget that six months at this job might _actually_ dig him a bit out of the debt his parents’ deaths had left him in.

There was only one thing that made it the smidge bit bearable.

Well, someone, and that was Bofur.

Bofur made him laugh (which in turn earned Thorin’s ire), and tried to include Bilbo in the bunch, but when Thursday and Friday were without a lunch, he really couldn’t.

Sitting in the cafeteria while others ate around him with a cheap sandwich was bad enough, but sitting without food and having to admit that he had no money for a lunch was not something he wanted to do.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when an arm swung over his shoulders and he looked up to find it was Bofur. “Another week, another check! Now, how about we celebrate that by heading down to a pub, huh?” Bofur questioned.

“Um…I’m not sure that is a good idea. I have to drive home,” he stated.

“Then just get a soda. Not to worry. I wouldn’t be going, but Nori agreed to come and he always stays sober when we are out. And I get free beer then,” Bofur stated and Bilbo hesitated before he agreed.

*~*~*

As it turned out ‘Nori’ was in the computer programming section with his little brother, Ori. They improved the AIs in some of the robotics that Erebor Tech distributed, and also Bofur’s boyfriend.

The pair were childish, in a way, pickpocketing off each other, Bofur with much less success than Nori. They also seemed to enjoy teasing each other almost cruelly, though they were quick to kiss and make-up, in a way.

And all within the first half hour of meeting Nori.

“Are they…always like this?” Bilbo asked Ori, who nodded.

“Uh-huh. They met in college. Nori accidentally crawled in the wrong window to escape the campus patrol and from there…well, that’s how they met. I don’t know how they got together,” Ori explained and Bilbo nodded a bit before he began to drink down his water.

“You sure you don’t want more? Nori wouldn’t mind paying,” Ori stated, even as Bilbo shook his head.

“No, it’s quite all right,” Bilbo reassured, even as he wondered if maybe he should, instead stealing some onion rings that had been purchased to fill his empty stomach.

It was nearly ten when they broke up, Bilbo feeling much more relaxed than when he arrived and waved at them before he headed for home in his patchwork car.

(The next day, he winced over the fact that, to dry clean five of his six suits would be $100, and mentally tightened his food budget.)

*~*~*

The next month was not nearly as bad as the first week, in a way.

Both of the pranksters were put on a project that took up all of their energy, so Bilbo’s desk was safe.

Thorin just got worse.

He was subtly demeaning, commenting about how Balin would have done this or that and Bilbo could suddenly understand why all the temps at Greyhame Agency had pitied him so.

Working for Thorin when you weren’t someone he trusted and liked was _murder_. Bilbo often found himself bringing work home just so he could try and get ahead of Thorin’s unreasonable demands, sometimes even working through lunch in the break room, where occasionally one of the accountants, Glóin joined him and ended up waxing poetical about his wife and son.

Bilbo always took a break to listen to him and usually always had to play ‘catch up’ as it were in hopes of at least not getting the sharp edge of Thorin’s tongue, but the dismissal of his efforts was just as bad.

Bilbo could already feel himself frying, but he pulled it together, looking forward to the end of the week, Friday evenings especially, even if Bofur didn’t drag him anywhere, every Sunday morning.

Getting home wasn’t that much better to the sight of the hard copy version of the bills he paid online and various other pieces of mail and the cat tower that once had a cat perched up there, but Myrtle had been an expense Bilbo had been unable to keep up. Even a regular trip to the vet was too expensive on Bilbo’s budget and, if he could barely feed himself, how could he expect to feed a cat?

Bilbo probably would have kept her despite this had his ‘neighbor’, Hamfast, hadn’t agreed to adopt her till Bilbo could take care of her again.

He then made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner and focused on setting up the ingredients for the week to make Danishes and hope that, eventually, the brothers would grow tired of pranking him, even though they had laid off with their attention elsewhere.

And then it was time for a technological convention of some sort.

*~*~*

Balin had, thankfully, already set up the itinerary, as this was something they did once every two years and all Bilbo had to do was check the reservations, as well as make sure everyone had their plane tickets and Thorin wouldn’t get stuck in a row with no one he knew.

It was incredibly stressful for Bilbo, especially since he had to go and he had a near panic-attack inducing fear of flying.

And no meds to keep himself calm, because they were expensive, and he had to stay sober with a hard copy version of the itinerary in case Thorin decided to go over something during the flight, so he had to be coherent as well.

While having a panic-attack about being in a plane.

He might also have claustrophobia, which was entirely his cousin Otho’s fault, but that was not helping matters and…

“Bilbo, yer lookin’ real pale,” Bofur stated and Bilbo merely nodded even as he stuck his head between his knees, suddenly very thankful that all his suits were in his carry-on and, while he would not be happy about it if the airline lost his suitcase, he could survive without his ‘lazy’ clothes, which were machine washable slacks thank you very much.

“Yeah, trying not to think about flying. Failing,” Bilbo stated.

“That bad, huh?” Nori asked and Bilbo nodded.

“Where are your tranquilizers?” Ori asked.

“Don’t have them. Too expensive, and no, I can’t get drunk. By Eru, I wish I could right now, but I can’t,” Bilbo answered, trying not to think of the flying tin can and…nope.

This wasn’t going to end well, he could tell.

“Flight 14 on Windlord Airlines, Gate 39, Seats 50 through 80,” an announcer stated and Bofur immediately tugged on Bilbo arm.

“That’s us. Let’s go,” Bofur stated and Bilbo just took deep breaths as he stumbled up, clutching at his bag to go under the seat in front of him like a lifeline while Nori carried Bilbo’s carry-on with his own.

“Manwë protect me,” Bilbo whimpered, even as Bofur urged him to give his ticket to the stewardess so he could be directed to his seat.

Bilbo had the window, but Bofur shoved Nori through and then he sat down, giving Bilbo the aisle, which Bilbo took, even as he heaved in air through his nose and out through his mouth. “It’s not just flying, is it?” Nori asked softly and Bilbo shook his head nearly to the point of whiplash while he buckled in.

“Are we going to have to get you drunk and damn the consequences?” Nori asked seriously and Bilbo shook his head again, even as he heard the sounds of Thorin and the brats who lived to prank and torment him coming down the aisle.

“But if someone touches me, I can’t make guarantees,” Bilbo answered, even as he forced himself to relinquish his grip on the arm rests and nearly heaved a sigh of relief as Thorin shoved the brothers into the center aisle seats first before taking his seat, looking highly uncomfortable, but otherwise fine.

Bilbo had emailed Balin twice about class, and had been told both times first class was when Thorin had to fly overseas with just Bilbo, which would be happening soon and to be prepared for that.

At conventions, everyone went in middle class and just prayed Thorin didn’t snap at one of the airplane personal due to loss of patience. “Baggins, do you have a hard copy of the itinerary in that bag of yours?” Thorin asked.

“Yes, sir,” Bilbo answered, shocked and amazed his voice was as steady as it was.

“Once we’re in the air, get it out. I want to see what panels I am forced to send someone to,” Thorin stated and Bilbo nodded in agreement with a soft, “Yes, sir,” uttered after Thorin glared at him.

The flight was going to be a Melkor granted curse, he just knew it.

*~*~*

Bilbo’s legs were trembling as he got off the plane and he was forced to sit down once he was in the clear, shaking all over.

He had his carry-on and he had his bag, and everything was fine, and now he just had to get his luggage that went in the bowels of the plane and he could go to the hotel room and have his breakdown there.

Everything would be fine and dandy and he wouldn’t die.

“Ya good to move?” Bofur asked and Bilbo nodded, standing up, though he waivered.

Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli had walked on and Bilbo quickly moved to catch up, Ori coming up at his side. “I think Nori and I have to be at the AI panel,” Ori stated and Bilbo soon turned his attention to running their lives as well as Thorin’s, who was on four panels this week.

He was going to be a bear, Bilbo could tell.

*~*~*

“So how did it happen?” Ori asked as the pair hung up their clothes.

Bilbo was with Ori, Bofur with Nori, and, of course, the brothers were together.

Thorin was alone and they would be using his room across the hall for meetings and such while at the convention.

“How did what happen?” Bilbo asked as he huffed over the slight wrinkles that had come with them being in the carry-on suitcase, but he had no desire to iron them right at the moment, and they were not horrible, so he felt perfectly all right in not doing anything with them.

“The fear of flying. And whatever the other thing was that had you looking about ready to puke for most of the flight,” Ori stated and Bilbo stilled.

“The flying is easy to explain. Mostly because it is a side-effect of the first and it less a fear of flying and more like the fear of falling. I fell out of a tall tree as a child,” Bilbo explained and he settled the tablet with plug-in keyboard in front of him as he brought up the itinerary.

“The other?” Ori asked softly.

“Claustrophobia. And I don’t want to talk about it,” Bilbo responded.

Because he did not need the nightmares that would bring. “That’s okay. I have a fear of the dark that I don’t like to talk about either,” Ori offered and Bilbo looked up with a smile.

“You can leave the lamp on,” Bilbo promised and looked back at the itinerary with a soft sigh.

“I only have a reservation for Nori going up on stage,” Bilbo stated.

“Probably for the best. I get excited and use up all our talking time,” Ori stated and Bilbo smiled.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Bilbo responded, even as he looked through everything, wincing at how close a couple of Thorin’s panels were going to cut it.

“Innovation for the Future sounds like one where I better make sure he has tea,” Bilbo muttered.

“Probably. He has that panel every year with Ms. Smaug. She tried to steal the company out from under us two years back,” Ori answered.

“Oh? How so?” Bilbo asked.

“By marrying Thorin’s brother. She kept her maiden name, but Thorin’s father had already willed everything to Thorin. They, Frerin and Ms. Smaug, started up their own company and Frerin used a few patents that were under his name from the time he worked under Thorin. They then tried to sue for control of Thorin’s company, Erebor Tech, as Frerin had provided ‘the driving force behind Erebor,’ and it went to court and Thorin won. Needless to say that did not go over well and family dinners are tense things, to say the least,” Ori answered.

“Go to family dinners often?” Bilbo asked as he tried to see where he could buy some Irish Breakfast Tea on the cheap on the hotel’s internet.

“Most of the company does. Do you want anything from room service?” Ori responded and Bilbo looked up.

“Um…whatever is cheapest,” Bilbo stated and focused back on the tablet.

“You don’t even know what it is,” Ori stated.

“The Cesar salad,” he answered.

“How did you know that?” Ori asked.

“Stayed here before,” Bilbo answered.

“You know, we are on the Company’s dime. You can get more than water and a salad,” Ori stated and Bilbo shrugged.

“It is fine,” Bilbo responded and Ori shrugged before calling up room service to place the order.

A knock on the door pulled Bilbo from his off-the-clock work and he got up to answer the door, as Ori was busy.

“Mr. Durin, what can I do for you?” Bilbo asked as he stared up at his imposing boss.

“I need to speak with you. Bring that tablet of yours,” Thorin ordered and Bilbo nodded even as he turned to retrieve it while Ori frowned.

“It is a salad, it will keep,” Bilbo answered and hurried out after Thorin.

They walked into Thorin’s room and settled down. They worked for the next three hours, Bilbo turning down food when Thorin ordered some up for his own dinner, ignoring the rumbling of his stomach.

Once they had everything organized, and Thorin had tasked Bilbo with organizing the powerpoint on the presentation he was holding at the panel tomorrow, he returned to his room.

(Distantly, Bilbo was rather thankful his salad was still there. He had not put it past either brother to try and steal it.)

*~*~*

“Kíli, are you sure this is a good idea?” Fíli asked as Kíli tapped the ‘Greatest Pranks to End All Pranks’ plan.

“Yeah, once we get back! It’ll be fine!” Kíli answered with a grin, even as Fíli frowned, wondering if maybe Kíli’s overzealous desire to get back at Bilbo for seeing through their trick was starting to get out of hand.

*~*~*

The convention went off without a hitch and Thorin seemed to almost warm up to Bilbo before remembering he was just a temp and went back to being colder than the north. Then it was back home (panicked and fearful the entire time) for Bilbo, who was more than happy to get home and plug everything in he had unplugged during the week he was gone and rolled his eyes at his cousin’s grating words over the answering machine.

Good to be home indeed.

*~*~*

Bilbo sighed as he realized he had left Thorin’s travel mug on his desk.

Since the convention two weeks ago, Fíli and Kíli had been leaving Bilbo alone and while, at first Bilbo had been relieved, he began to get worried, remembering times when he was targeted for pranks during long stays with his more rambunctious cousins on either side of the family.

Being the smallest and the most timid of his cousins had meant that Bilbo had, more often than not, been the target of the pranks, which often crossed the line into bullying, with only his mother to step in and break it up when she realized the line had been crossed.

The rest of the parents always just laughed it off.

So Bilbo was extremely wary to the point where he had been having nightmares.

The most prevalent one was a memory at age six that had only increased, terror wise, since.

He would wake, panting and scrabbling, his last clear memory of being trapped in a box by Otho and said box shoved into back of the closet under things to see how long it would take for an adult to find Bilbo.

(It took his mother five minutes of careful searching, but Bilbo had already beaten his hands bloody over the course of the four hours he had been trapped there, the hand holds cut into the wood of the box the only thing keeping him from suffocating, the scars on his hands fading with time till it took a very close look to see them, but the psychological scars never left.)

So it is only because it is Thorin’s travel mug that Bilbo turns around and heads back up.

The memo for the janitorial staff to take the night off had been circulated, so Bilbo wasn’t overly concerned with the lack of people. A skeleton staff of security guards would go through and they wouldn’t show up for another half an hour, and not get to the level with Thorin’s office for another two, so Bilbo wasn’t expecting anyone.

He certainly wasn’t expecting for a pair of hands to grab him and shove him into one of the narrower utilities closets, followed by the door slamming shut and a slightly familiar mischievous giggle to follow, but his brain had shut down as he huddled on the ground, gasping for breath as he found himself back in the box.

*~*~*

Thorin sighed as he grabbed the files from his desk. He would have Bilbo file them tomorrow when he went to get the patent histories on some of the simple AI children’s toys Ori was developing.

If Erebor Tech wasn’t so successful he would have put an end to it long ago, but the AI puppy Ori had developed after what felt like years would probably easily refund on all of those failed ideas and would make Ori happy.

And his little half-brother deserved to be happy.

Both of them, in fact, though Nori liked to pretend he didn’t know Thorin when they were first growing up together.

He had had a hard enough time being the youngest child of Thráin’s mistress growing up without…

Thorin stilled when he heard what could only be soft whimpering, pulled from his thoughts.

He looked around, only to find there was nowhere there.

He almost continued when he heard it again and realized it was coming from one of the smaller utilities closet. He hesitated before he opened it, his body behind the door in case it was someone of a nefarious nature.

He nearly jumped back a foot when Bilbo shot out of the closet and scrambled for the openness of the office, gasping and panting and sobbing out shaking thanks and apologies.

He didn’t get very far, practically boneless.

Thorin had seen it before, when Bifur had a panic attack, only his were far more violent than Bilbo’s before he crashed as Bilbo was doing now.

“It was no trouble,” Thorin answered softly and Bilbo entire body seemed to twitch as if attatched to a live wire.

“Mr. Durin, I…,” Bilbo began, but he was shuddering again and Thorin had a feeling Bilbo would do much better outside.

“Come on. We have a garden on the roof,” Thorin stated, holding a hand out to Bilbo, as Thorin was pretty sure that was the only way Bilbo was going to stand while doing his best to keep from blocking Bilbo in.

Bilbo hesitated, still gasping for air, before he took Thorin’s hand with his, the fingertips bloodstained and nails damaged, and allowed Thorin to haul him up onto his feet.

“Let’s be quick,” Thorin stated.

*~*~*

Bilbo almost couldn’t go up the stairway to the roof, but he managed, somehow.

Probably the idea of fresh air getting him moving and he soon found himself on the garden.

It was part rock garden, part flower garden and Bilbo plopped onto the bench with the most _space_ around it even as he let out a strangled, self-deprecating laugh as he scrubbed at his face.

Thorin was keeping his distance, but only did so as long as Bilbo seemed to have spasms of fear run through him.

Once he had calmed, Thorin sat on the far side of the bench from Bilbo. “How long have you had claustrophobia?” Thorin asked.

“Since I was six,” Bilbo responded softly.

“You did well, on the flight for the convention. Both times. I had thought you were hung-over both times,” Thorin stated.

“Don’t drink. Alcohol is expensive,” Bilbo responded softly.

Thorin merely hummed in agreement and let out a long sigh. “Do you think you’ll be all right to drive?” he asked and Bilbo felt his heart jump up in speed, trying to pound out of his chest and Bilbo shook his head.

His mix-n-match of a car was small. While he could deal with it, usually, by rolling down the windows, he knew tonight he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

He might not even be able to handle his own home, the small cottage suddenly seeming like an imposing thing that would only shrink if he stepped through the door.

“I can drive you to the hospital,” Thorin offered.

“Uh…I…I don’t think…” Bilbo stuttered, only to get interrupted by Thorin.

“I have a convertible. And I’ll pay for the trip.”

“Lead the way Mr. Durin.”

“Thorin, Mr. Baggins.”

“Bilbo, Thorin.”

*~*~*

Kíli punched his security code in, nearly setting the alarm off three times, but he was frantic.

Mr. Boggins’s car was still in the parking lot and he was sprinting up the steps and wrenching open the closet, gasping for air and heart pounding, only to find it empty of the curly haired man.

Trembling Kíli thunked down on the floor.

“You, nephew, are _very_ lucky,” Thorin rumbled and Kíli twisted to find Thorin waiting at the doorway to the stairway.

“Lucky?” Kíli asked softly.

“Yes. In a few ways, at the least. In one that Bilbo is so very forgiving and never said how you and your brother have been tormenting him and pranking him, which ends now. But your greatest stroke of luck comes from the fact that I am hyper aware of my surroundings and I heard him whimpering. There, your luck ends, because if it wasn’t, you’d be opening that closet door to a catatonic PA, who probably would have had to probably been institutionalized for a time, and then I would be without a PA and facing a lawsuit from Greyhame Temp Agency, not to mention the fact Bilbo cannot afford to have that happen to him,” Thorin answered, voice dark and angry, causing Kíli to flinch.

“Do you not _think_ in your pranks? Salt in the tea is one thing, but this was malicious, though it was not intended that way, you targeted someone in your pranks who you did not know. And, as it turns out, in this case, it could have ended very badly, considering Bilbo has severe claustrophobia,” Thorin continued and Kíli hunched over.

He hadn’t meant to hurt Mr. Boggins, _Baggins_.

He had…it was just for fun.

“It ends. The next time you get it into your head to prank someone, I want you to remember that one of your _harmless pranks_ very nearly caused irreparable damage to someone,” Thorin finished and walked over, holding his hand out to Kíli, who hesitated before he took Thorin’s hand and was hauled up.

“Is Mr. Boggins okay?” Kíli asked softly.

“His fingertips have bandages on them and he has an order of medication to get him through the flight next week, overseas, but other than that, yes. Óin took good care of him,” Thorin answered.

“Uncle Thorin, I really hadn’t meant…” Kíli began, but Thorin cut him off.

“Tell Bilbo on Monday.”

Kíli nodded silently and headed home while Uncle Thorin got into the little car of Bilbo and, presumably, drove it to Bilbo’s home.

(He would later learn Thorin had let Bilbo borrow his convertible due to the fact Bilbo couldn’t handle being inside his own car, requiring him to get to work even sooner so he could walk up eight flights.)

*~*~*

“Balin?” Thorin asked.

“Yes lad?” Balin responded, dreading what Thorin would say next.

He wanted to retire but Thorin’s prickliness had most temps running for the hills. “I was thinking…maybe Bilbo Baggins would be a good replacement for you after all,” Thorin stated.

Balin hid his smile behind his book.

“I’ll start the paperwork on Monday,” Balin promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, Vampires (and Werewolves) is next.
> 
> Who should I make what?
> 
> (Nah, I have an idea.)


	23. Vampires (and Werewolves xD) [Teen, No Pairings, All the Races AU thing...I don't even know]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is an odd werewolf and every Pack of the Shire would agree to it.
> 
> And he knows, when Gandalf appears, he is going to be considered even odder.
> 
> Especially when Gandalf comes due to what is not spoken of.
> 
> (Mentioned Violence)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late. It just did _not_ want to come out.

Bilbo Baggins was an odd werewolf, and every pack in the Shire would agree to it in a heartbeat.

Before the Fell Winter, it had just been his parentage that had them tittering about his oddities, that mix of Baggins and Took blood.

He had the Baggins patience; the ability to crouch in total stillness for hours on end outside of a burrow or even to track a herd of deer for weeks on end.

This patience translated into all he did, unlike most of the Baggins, a sort-of laid back manner that most mistook for timidity till they pushed him one step too far, and they were suddenly reminded that Bilbo, for all his oddities, was an Alpha to the bone.

With the Baggins patience came a desire for intellectual pursuits, chasing down the mental rabbit as it were to catch and savor. They were homebodies at heart, content to curl up in their dens during the five days of their change (the longest of any of the Packs, two days before the full moon, the night of the full moon, and two days after), and were more than willing to help out those in need.

But he also had the Took spirit; that part of them that made them deadly in a battle of any sort, the pack one did not want to cross.

That spirit would spark and flare into the open when Bilbo was challenged over his authority of the Bag-End Smial, or den by outsiders’ standards.

It had sparked most beautifully during the Fell Winter, his wolf bathing the snow in the blood of the Orcs and their Wargs.

But after the Fell Winter, after that horrible winter, when Bilbo had used the Took ability to shift willfully from Hobbit to Wolf with other Tooks, and those of Took blood, it truly stood out.

The first full moon after the Fell Winter, during that time the wolf must come out, when Bungo shifted, so did Bilbo.

But Bilbo in a far more painful manner.

His whimpers and cries could be heard throughout Hobbiton and, when Bilbo shifted back to his Hobbit form, Bilbo was in agony for the rest of the day till his body could recover.

No one understood it, and when Belladonna asked Gandalf, the travelling Wizard, about it, not even he had an answer.

Or, at least, an answer he would tell anyone.

And so it went, on and on, even after his parents returned to the earth.

Pained whimpers and whines echoed on the wind two days before the full moon, every month, and four days after the full moon, Bilbo Baggins, tired and too thin, for a Hobbit, went to refill his pantry.

Beyond this, Bilbo never seemed inclined to roam as his Took ancestors did, and seemed to keep to his Baggins roots.

That is, at least, until the Wandering Wizard brought a Family of Vampires to the Shire and, more specifically, to Bag-End.

*~*~*

Bilbo sighed as he flexed his hand, wincing at the ache that remained in his lower right arm.

The last full moon, one of the Brandybucks had wandered over and had started a scrape with one of the Baggins wolves.

Bilbo had to go break it up and, while he had been bit on the fore leg, the Brandybuck had left a trail of blood from the Field of Challenge up in Hobbiton back to the Brandywine.

The Baggins the Brandybuck had fought with had not fared nearly so well and was still being watched by a healer.

His next change would be difficult on his injuries, but he would carry through.

He settled back against his bench, inhaling the scent of his garden, when a much different scent made its way up through his nose. He immediately sat up and when the Wandering Wizard wandered up the path and into Bilbo’s eyesight, the Wizard immediately stilled.

“Good morning,” Bilbo greeted softly, wondering if maybe he should just shift to avoid the perplexing conversation that was sure to come.

Dratted Wizard had purposely been silent, as that is the only way Bilbo hadn’t heard him.

A Hobbit’s hearing, already keen, was near deafening at times for Bilbo since the Fell Winter.

“What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it to be or not or that you feel good this morning or that it is a morning to be good on?” the Wizard prattled and Bilbo mentally felt his ears pin down at the vocal assault.

“All of them at once, I suppose,” Bilbo answered cautiously, wondering if maybe he should just shift and run back into his smial.

The Wizard huffed slightly and Bilbo inhaled slowly and carefully, smelling the telltale taint of a burning fire, and thicker scents the spoke of something beyond understanding and…ah.

Gandalf.

“I am looking for someone to help a…friend of mine,” Gandalf stated and Bilbo knew that, were he in his wolf shape, his ears would be going back as his tail went ridged and his eyes narrowed.

“Why come here? Surely there are those willing to travel, those without responsibilities, who could help your friend,” Bilbo answered calmly while resisting the urge to just shift and walk away.

His mother would be appalled with his manners about that.

“Ah, I’m afraid that is not the case. There are few I would trust to aid this friend and even less who could aid this friend in a manner that would be satisfactory,” Gandalf continued and Bilbo felt his eyes narrow slightly, all of his senses tingling as if a lightning were in the air.

“Well, there is no one on this side of the water that would be interested in an adventure,” Bilbo answered calmly, refusing to retreat from the Wizard.

He didn’t back down from his Took uncles, he would not back down from Gandalf.

“I’m afraid there are none across the water that I could trust,” Gandalf answered and Bilbo felt himself bristle at that.

“Oh, by the Life Giver…you’re bringing a vampire into the Shire,” Bilbo exclaimed.

“Multiple, actually,” Gandalf answered easily and Bilbo groaned.

“Gandalf, no, just…no. You _know_ how we are about vampires! You’ll be lucky if you get whoever they are past the Brandybucks! They are _particularly_ vicious about it! You know well enough that the distaste between Werewolves and Vampires is nearly as infamous as Dwarves and Elves!” Bilbo argued, ignoring how Holman had stopped with his work to walk over to where Bilbo argued with Gandalf, Hamfast at Holman’s elbow to watch the argument with calm eyes.

“Except you,” Gandalf stated and Bilbo felt his skin twitch at that, while Holman stiffened behind him.

The unspoken of thing, by decree of the Old Took, the last true Shire Alpha before Bilbo had stepped seamlessly into the position, much to the shock of many, as Thain did not mean Shire Alpha, though it was usually synonymous.

Of the time Bilbo Baggins had saved a vampire and nearly paid for it with his life.

How Gandalf knew, Bilbo couldn’t say, but he knew already that, whether by his will or not, he would be going on this adventure.

Gandalf had already picked him and one did not argue with a Wizard and _win_.

“Will I know anything before they come?” Bilbo asked, even as Holman let out a low his between his teeth.

“They’ll explain it all. I am sure you will have loose ends to wrap up,” Gandalf stated.

Bilbo nodded and, before he could say a thing, Holman and Hamfast were already brushing past the Wizard to round up the Pack Alphas.

“If one of the vampires tries to rip out my throat this time Gandalf, I will not let my personal feelings prevent me from doing the same to them, do you understand?” Bilbo asked softly and Gandalf nodded.

“They will do no such thing Bilbo, I promise,” Gandalf answered and Bilbo nodded before he headed inside.

He heard the scraping of something against his door, and did not bother to try and stop the Wizard.

He was going on an adventure to, once again, save a vampire’s life, as it were, and Bilbo sighed.

Why was he always getting himself into these things?

“Gandalf,” he muttered and scrubbed his hand through his hair before he headed into the smial and began to pack everything he might need for the trip while he mentally reviewed what he would have to go over with the Pack Alphas, referring to the Thain for any needs that would otherwise been addressed by Bilbo.

Hopefully the Shire would be still standing when he returned.

(It would be.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, all Bilbo and Gandalf, with some Holman and Hamfast thrown in.
> 
> I don't...I just....I could not get a thing to work for this, so I left it there.
> 
> If I ever get the world more hammered out, I might expand on this.
> 
> (The likelyhood, however, is minuscule however, sorry.)


	24. Genderswapped (Gen, Bifur/Bilbo, past Thorin/Bilbo, Modern AU, Human AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bifur doesn't need his hearing to know that if his wife keeps dancing in their backyard, she's going to get soaked to the bone, then get sick.
> 
> (Side Pairing: Thorin/Dwalin)
> 
> [Coma, Deafness Due to Accident, Sexism-ish(?), Random Gender Swapping]

When Bifur first met Bilbo, he had his hearing and his voice.

She had had a boyfriend.

Thorin Durin was a jealous man and would get unreasonably angry if Bilbo so much as glanced at another male of age.

They had met in the library and there was a part of Bifur that was guilty over not being guilty of being the scape-goat reason they broke up.

The row had taken place in public in the middle of the college quad.

Thorin had brandied about hurtful and painful words that seemed to make Bilbo reel before she lashed back.

In the end, Thorin delivered the final blow. After demanding to know who she had been sleeping with when she would not do so with him, and Bilbo protesting that she hadn’t slept with anyone, only for Thorin to call her a liar.

A liar and a betrayer of his heart and she stared at him as he stormed away.

It would not be Bifur who would first sweep up the pieces, nor would he be her next boyfriend (Damian Smaug), who did a great deal of helping her heal before they broke up amicably.

But, in the end, she chose Bifur to have and to hold till death do them part in sickness and in health, and that was, truly, all Bifur cared about, in a manner of speaking.

At the wedding, Thorin, who was Dwalin’s plus one, seemed to come to the realization that he was the one who drove Bilbo away, and there was forgiveness from a woman in a bright white dress who yanked Thorin out onto the dance floor at some point for the whirl.

And then Bifur got into the accident.

He was a carpenter, really, but he did an odd job helping to build houses, or repair them, and had started storing away money to continue on the tradition started by Bilbo’s father (Bungo) of, literally, building a home for them to share.

According to Bilbo, Bifur had been in a coma for a month before he returned to Bilbo, unable to speak or hear.

Together, they learned sign language and they moved on. Bifur got the home built and, literally, carried his wife out of their tiny apartment and into the ‘cottage’ he had built for them, as a very belated wedding present.

And they lived.

*~*~*

They were married for six years, and no children in sight, when Uncle Mofur dumped his fifteen year old son, Bofur, and his ten year old daughter, Bombur, on Bilbo and Bifur without so much as a phone call of warning and was off with his girlfriend soon to be third wife.

Bilbo took it all in stride, despite not knowing either child well, and was soon bonding with Bombur over their shared love of food that translated into both cooking it, which had given Bifur a slightly pudgy middle he was rather proud of, and into eating it which, in Bifur’s opinion, made his wife quite pleasantly soft.

Bofur, however, seemed bound and determined not to get along.

He was rude and downright vulgar, if the deep embarrassed red that colored Bilbo’s cheeks was any indication.

Sharp motions of the hands, translated by Bilbo when they realized their cousins didn’t know any sign language, were brushed off by Bofur before he stormed out of the house, leaving Bilbo flustered and Bombur hiding her face in Bilbo’s skirts, which she preferred to wear because she could, thank you very much.

And then, one day, Bofur took a step too far.

*~*~*

Bifur hid a smile in his beard as he watched Bilbo flutter about their backyard in her skirts, long golden curls spilling across her shoulders, held out of her face by a scarf with strawberries printed all over it.

 _“Isn’t summer lovely Bifur?”_ she sighed as she turned to him, and Bifur nodded before he signed back, “ _Very lovely. Get inside before the sky opens up on your head and you get sick from the rain.”_

Bilbo beamed and spun around again before she rushed inside.

Bilbo, every year, no matter how hard Bifur worked, got sick.

Because of that, he would like to keep it to the winter, instead of her getting sick twice over.

She did not have the Broadbeam constitution, that’s for sure, but it was never anything more serious than a bad cold that laid her up for a couple of weeks before she was back on her feet.

Bifur chuckled as she ran right into his chest, hooking her arms over his shoulders, letting her hands rest on the back of his neck, massaging away any tension that rested there.

She leaned up as she did so, her smile bright while her laughter vibrating through her skin and into his as they began to kiss lazily in the laundry room, which separated the backyard from the kitchen.

He then nudged at her nose before he hooked his arms around her to hike her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, earning more vibrating laughs from his wife.

Bifur wondered if her laughter was as bright as he remembered before he lost his hearing or if it was tinged with something else now, before he decided not to dwell on it but, instead, focus on the bright little piece of sunshine in his arms.

He smiled as he reached up to pull her down for a kiss, his fingers twitching their way under Bilbo’s headscarf before she suddenly broke away, her face flushed with that tint that only came from embarrassment.

Shifting his grip so he was holding her more securely, Bifur turned his head to let her bury her face into his neck to discover that his cousins were hovering in the doorway of the laundry room.

Bombur was nearly as red as her hair while she stared up her older brother in what could only be described as horrified shock before she ducked her head, wringing her hands nervously in front of her.

Bifur frowned at that and he didn’t need to know how to read Bofur’s lips to know that Bofur was saying something rude and vulgar, again.

He gently tapped behind Bilbo’s knees, earning a tense twitch before she unwrapped her legs, allowing Bifur to settle her on the ground. He leaned down to press a kiss to her flaming red forehead before he pulled back and turned to focus on Bofur.

He did not hesitate to cuff Bofur upside the head and then he hooked his fingers over Bofur’s collar and began to drag him backwards.

Babysitters for the summer or not, if Uncle Morfur wasn’t going to teach Bofur manners, Bifur would.

*~*~*

Bilbo looked up as Bifur returned with a soaking wet Bofur in tow. “Must you Bifur?” Bilbo questioned as she signed.

Bifur merely nodded once before he shoved at Bofur’s shoulder while Bilbo eyed the water that was trailed across her nice, clean, hardwood floors. “I’m not cleaning that up,” she stated and Bifur gave a sound that made ‘yes,’ before he shoved at Bofur’s shoulder again.

Bofur huffed and shifted before he glared down at Bilbo.

Bombur squeaked and hid behind Bilbo’s skirts, peeking out from behind them while Bilbo waited, a hand on Bombur’s braided hair.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting,” Bofur groused out.

“All is forgiven. Come help me with dinner. Bifur, you do not get to touch a single dish,” Bilbo stated, her hand leaving Bombur’s head so she could sign as she spoke before she turned back to dinner.

“Now, you chop the carrot like this…” Bilbo continued, carefully showing Bombur how to dice the carrots.

She had Bofur shell peas.

*~*~*

It took time to get Bofur to stop being so rude toward Bilbo, his distaste of any adult female showing quite vividly in regards to Bilbo, but it slowly eased with time.

In the end, Bifur managed to (almost literally) beat manners into his cousin’s brain, and it was a great relief to Bombur and Bilbo, though Bombur more so.

“You don’t have to live with it every day all year long,” Bombur stated before she eagerly presented her snicker doodles to Bifur for taste-testing.

*~*~*

 _“Do you think Uncle Mofur will let us keep them?”_ Bilbo signed.

Bifur chuckled even as he nuzzled against Bilbo’s throat. _“Possibly. We’ll ask them about it tomorrow, yeah?”_ Bifur responded.

 _“But only after we tell them we all will be missing out on sleep in about six months,”_ Bilbo answered back.

Bifur frowned at that.

Why would they be…

Bifur’s eyes widened and he pressed a hand to Bilbo’s abdomen and she nodded excitedly, a bright smile on her face.

Bifur launched himself at his wife, catching her yelp of surprise with his lips before he was moving over to press kisses along her abdomen.

They were going to be parents.

*~*~*

Frodo was born on December twenty-first, in the middle of the night, after making his mother miss all her meals.

(Twice.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain just started to randomly switch genders.
> 
> And I needed some Bifur/Bilbo.


	25. Circus (Teen, No Pairings, Human AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo never felt freer than when he was dancing in the sky.
> 
> (Mention of Death by Car Accident, Mention of Falling, Mention of Falling and Back Breaking)

Bilbo Baggins was a circus child.

His mother had been the tightrope walker and his father had been a magician who entertained children before the proper show began. He had thought one day he would be like Belladonna, up in the air and had even begun training for it, despite the way his father bit at the inside of his cheek as he watched his whole life balance, even though it was mere feet off the ground.

He was worse when it was Mother, hundreds of feet in the air.

Bilbo thought his father silly.

He never knew that Belladonna Baggins performed with no net, a staple of any Took Family Act, all of which took place in the air.

Trapeze, aerial silk, high-wire, none of it mattered, for the Took Family Motto said it all.

_If it is to be done, it must be done like you could never fall._

Bilbo had thought it wondrous.

Bungo had thought it foolish and dreaded the day that Belladonna climbed up only to fall back down to her doom.

She never did.

But Bilbo almost did.

Initiated into training, Bilbo took to the air as if he was born with wings and, while at first it seemed he would find a place on the trapeze, it was soon revealed that he had a true knack for the aerial silk.

He listened to his Took relations as he moved through the air, listening to their warnings and never doing more than suggested, accepting the spotting with true acceptance as opposed to his Took relatives of his age, who did not.

And Bilbo, in his obedience and learning, became daring. He would try things that followed the rules and came up with splendid works of art that made use of all the skills he had learned at his Took cousins’ knees.

Bungo panicked even more as he watched his son fall, spools of the silk unwrapping around him till he came to a stop, suspended amongst the silk.

Bilbo did this numerous times, his own small falls having taught him that sometimes, people slipped and there was just nothing they could do about it.

Bungo watched with his heart pounding as he watched Bilbo practice, slowly gaining heights as he climbed and twirled and posed above the stands.

And then he fell, slipping out of a hold and tumbling to the ground.

Bungo let out a shout of fear and then Bilbo had wrapped himself up in the silk as he fell, jerking to a stop.

He had cracked several ribs and the moment he healed, he returned to the silks.

When Bungo had asked his son why he returned, Bilbo had smiled and answered, “Because, despite the fact I’m terrified, I feel free.”

Bungo never asked again.

(He never stopped watching with baited breath either.)

*~*~*

As time passed, the Shire Circus began to downsize, and Bilbo found himself learning not only the rest of the acrobatic tricks (including learning how to do the Iron Jaw to take over for their ‘Madame Butterfly’ once or twice when her own jaw ached), but also how to do acrobatics on horseback, learning to vault and move from horse to horse, when it was the team runners, to make the audience gasp.

His desire to learn only increased after Bungo died in a car accident, and his mother lost the will to dance across the high wire, instead helping to teach others to dance through the air.

And despite it all, Bilbo loved the circus life.

He loved going from town to town, graduating while on the road, and he loved learning how to do most anything anyone would teach him.

But he knew that teaching them to do more so they could let go acts was far more telling than the half-empty stands and, when Bilbo was twenty-one, the Shire Circus went out of business.

Most of the Took family split up into smaller groups to join other circuses, or they retired and started up a school.

Bilbo was on his own, his mother going with her brothers to the Took School of Aerial Arts, and leaving Bilbo with circus skills, but no circus to perform them in.

So he is surprised when Gandalf Greyhame shows up on the front step of the cottage that his father built for his mother that his mother gave to Bilbo and offers Bilbo a trial job with Thorin’s Company.

Bilbo has heard of Thorin’s Company, and he knows they don’t do anything off the ground due to an accident four years ago.

“What would I be doing?” Bilbo asked.

“Why, my dear boy, everything you’ve been trained to do,” Gandalf answered.

Bilbo doesn’t hesitate to sign on.

*~*~*

Thorin Durin seems to despise him on sight, but Bilbo doesn’t fully mind.

He instead over sees the set-up of his aerial silks and then begins to stretch, feeling out for what he thinks he can do as opposed to what he shouldn’t.

“Do something simple,” Thorin demanded and Bilbo raised an eyebrow at Thorin before he nodded.

“Showy climb or straight climb?” Bilbo asked as he added the rosin to his feet and hands.

It was how he slipped last time; not enough.

“Just start,” Thorin retorted and Bilbo shrugged before he began to climb up using the straddle climb, ignoring Thorin’s huff at that.

And then he began.

He felt at home as he twisted and posed through the silk, starting with the relatively simple Ship’s Lady, and going from there.

He felt himself twist and pull, swinging upside down at one point, back arched, one leg arched upward while the other arched down, and hands free before he was moving once more, and upside down.

He then began to make his way up until he was wrapped in the silk, feeling secure as he artfully wrapped himself so it felt like he was standing on point before he let himself fall. Twisting through the air, he began to slow his descent as he pulled himself into the Ship’s Lady, then disengaged, dropping down properly to turn to Thorin.

Only to find that he had gained an audience as he danced in the sky.

Thorin was staring at him with a pale face and Bilbo took a hesitant step back. “What?” he asked softly.

“What…why did you do that?” Thorin demanded.

“Fall?” Bilbo asked softly and Thorin nodded sharply.

“That’s the routine. You fall down and pull into Ship’s Lady. Then you dismount. Some I have, I fall to near the bottom and hang upside down,” Bilbo explained, eyes dancing about.

Gandalf seemed pleased, but everyone else seemed to be in a mix of shock and maybe some old horror.

Thorin grit his teeth at the answer. “This is why we don’t have aerial acts!” Thorin snapped at Gandalf.

“Yes, but as you can see, he’s perfectly fine. He would have never been performing at twelve otherwise,” Gandalf answered.

Thorin seemed to have a slight attack before he turned and stormed out. A white haired man followed and Bilbo inched toward Gandalf.

Before he got too far, however, a young brunette came over to him. “How do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” Bilbo asked.

“Do that up there, without a net,” he questioned, a blond at his shoulder.

“If it is to be done, it must be done like you could never fall,” Bilbo quoted and the brunette frowned.

“It is my family motto. And that I just did is nothing compared to flying on the trapeze without a net. Drove my father spare, how his in-laws could do that, and I honestly think that my mother and I were the reason he went gray,” Bilbo answered with a shrug before he began to head over to collect his gear.

He had a feeling he would be stowing it back in his van and, from there, he would be heading back to the cottage.

*~*~*

“Who did he train under?” Balin asked Gandalf as he watched Bilbo work on a static trapeze.

“The Death Defying, High Flying, Dancers of the Sky,” Gandalf quoted with a smile as he watched Bilbo do a hocks hang, on a static trapeze not that far over a net, while watching Fíli and Kíli do their double acrobatics act on horseback in the next ring over.

“You can’t be saying the Took Family,” Balin stated and Gandalf merely hummed.

Balin blinked in surprise, even as he watched Bilbo shift till he was doing the bird’s nest under bar, before he began to pull himself up, balancing on the bar as with one leg curled up, the other straight before he was falling over, and hanging upside down once more in the gazelle.

“He’s bored,” Gandalf noted, ignoring the way Balin glared.

“And of course I mean them. A majority of them are his first cousins, uncles, and aunts. His mother was a Took and did a very frightening high wire act,” Gandalf continued as he watched Bilbo slowly beginning to ignore Thorin’s orders of ‘keeping it simple’ and began to go through one of his routines.

“All he can see is Frerin falling. It isn’t Thorin’s fault,” Balin stated.

“He asked me to find an aerial artist and I found him one. And if he does not start letting Bilbo do what he’s spent his _life_ doing, I will have every right to pull him out of the circus!” Gandalf answered as he watched Bilbo flip up into the front balance, before he twisted back and hung from one knee, the other leg went forward, arched in a near circle.

“Baggins!” Thorin shouted, but Bilbo ignored him as he was suddenly pulling himself up into sitting.

“Yes?” Bilbo answered.

“I thought I told you to keep it simple,” Thorin snapped from the outer edge of the net.

“I was. I’m bored and if _I’m_ bored, your audience will be as well. You might as well not even have me up in the air if all I am to do is sit here and look pretty. There are many who look prettier than I who could do that,” Bilbo responded as he dropped down into the front angel.

Thorin grit his teeth, but Bilbo looked relaxed, even as he moved so he was hanging upside down by his hocks, then lifted himself up to support himself with his hands till he could set up the ankle hang and dropping back so he was more at eyelevel with Thorin.

“Look, trapeze is no good if it isn’t flying or a bar to bar rig, and, in a bar to bar rig, I still need lots of people who know what they are doing. Just let me do the silks, which can be done to the awe and wow of the audience with just one person,” Bilbo pressed.

“Until you get bored and do something that is too dangerous and snap your fool neck,” Thorin responded.

“I don’t wrap my silks around my neck. One of the first things I was taught. At least I’m not asking to do Iron Jaw,” Bilbo stated before he was curling up once more and then he was flipping over and dropping onto the net.

“Look, until you are ready to let me actually do what I was hired to do, I am going to visit family. I need to keep up my skills, because rusty skills will mean I will fall, and not in a controlled manner either,” Bilbo responded before he headed outside while Thorin glared at his back.

Balin sighed and followed after Bilbo, leaving Gandalf and Thorin to argue.

*~*~*

“Laddie,” Balin began, prepared to have to explain an old family hurt, when Bilbo interrupted gently.

“I know, he sees his brother falling from the silks and breaking his back.”

He then sighed and turned to face Balin, who stared at him with surprise.

“How did you know that?” Balin asked.

“Took Family. We go over falls. We eventually decided what happened was either a rigging accident or too little rosin. And that is not a pleasant fall. I was lucky I only cracked, most, of my ribs,” Bilbo answered and Balin mentally checked off Bilbo being fearless because he had never fallen.

And that he could mess up and acknowledge it. “Rigging accident?” Balin asked.

“We never rule that out. Mother was leaning towards it, actually,” Bilbo explained and he waved Balin up into his trailer.

Balin followed, partially amused as Bilbo began to throw clothes over his work-out clothes. “Well, you know it isn’t his fault. He just doesn’t want to see anyone else hurt,” Balin stated.

“I can understand that Balin. But he has to trust me or I’ll never be able to work here. Not because I don’t want to, but because he won’t let me,” Bilbo stated and pulled his bag over his shoulder before he walked down to his van and drove off.

He returned an hour before curfew, looking ridiculously happy.

*~*~*

The next day, Fíli and Kíli followed him, as it was their day off. An older man raised an eyebrow, but waved them to the stands and they sat back to watch as Bilbo began to climb the silks.

And then he danced in the air.

He spun his way around in the silks, his foot wrapped, and sometimes he was trapped within the silk, as if he was caught by spiders before he was falling and spinning, only to stop, hanging like a star trapped amongst velvet.

They could see why Gandalf had suggested Bilbo, had brought him in.

In watching, hearts in their throats, they could also see why Thorin didn’t want Bilbo doing that.

When Bilbo came down, he waved them down and met them at the entry way to the arena. “What did you think?” he asked.

“It was just…” Kíli stated before he stuttered to a stop and made a sound of terrified awe.

Bilbo smiled and looked at Fíli. “Well?” he asked.

“Uncle should really just let you do what you do,” Fíli stated and Bilbo smiled faintly.

“I don’t think he will. I’ve already got most of my stuff prepped to be moved here,” Bilbo stated.

“So you’ll teach?” Fíli asked while his brother worked on getting his brain to work.

“No. I’ll show off. Be a visual demonstration, till I can find a circus willing to let me do what I’ve trained to do,” Bilbo answered with a shrug.

“Isn’t it terrifying up there?” Kíli asked.

“Sometimes, but usually I don’t think about it,” Bilbo responded as he stared up at the silks that hung from the ceiling.

“Then why go up?” Kíli asked.

“Because, up there, I feel free.”

*~*~*

When Bilbo returned, Thorin gave Bilbo free reign and the aerial silks were set up.

Thorin never watched.

Everyone free to do so, did, for nothing compared to watching the way Bilbo danced in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing this, though I could not describe aerial artists on the silks.
> 
> Ugh just...I'm like Kili.
> 
> Terrified awe.


	26. The Plot of your Favorite Movie (Teen, Bilbo/Bofur, Human AU, Castle in the Sky Fusion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo was taken from his home by five mysterious men.
> 
> Bofur wants to discover the lost floating island the Shire.
> 
> (A _Castle in the Sky_ Based One-Shot)
> 
> (Mention of Deaths, Implied Suicide at One Point, Kidnapping, Implied Poverty, Orphans)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I forgot the chapter title.

Bilbo had grown up hearing tales at his mother’s knee about the exiles of the floating island of the Shire. She spoke of how the people of the Shire drew the attentions of greedy and restless people, who wanted nothing more than to use the Shire’s great powers to rule the world below them, and how some of the people of the Shire had even sided with the greedy people.

Bilbo, no matter how many times he had heard the story, always gasped at that part.

“What happened then Mama?” he asked, every time.

“Well, the people of the Shire realized they would have to leave their home, driven from it not by any calamity, but the greed in people’s hearts,” Belladonna stated.

“Will they ever get to go home Mama?” Bilbo asked softly.

“They have a new home darling. They have no need to return to the floating island,” she explained softly as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“What will happen if someone who wants to use the power of the island finds the island?” Bilbo asked.

Belladonna always smiled sadly that and carefully curled Bilbo’s hands around the Glow-Stone he wore on his neck on a metal chain of lightweight silvery-white metal.

“Without the heart of the island, they cannot ever find it. So you must guard the Glow-Stone, Bilbo, with all your heart, and never let anyone else hold it. Do you understand?”

“Yes Mama,” Bilbo answered softly, eyes wide with the weight of it, even though he was so small.

*~*~*

From a small age, Bilbo could remember learning spells.

Most were spells that he was taught were gentle things, things that he had no trouble learning to perfection. But others terrified him, such as the Spell of Destruction, and he had been unable to sleep for a week after learning it.

He was so young, but he always knew there was something behind everything he was taught. Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he would pull the Glow-Stone out from under his nightshirt and hold it up to look at it.

The setting should be heavy, for the Glow-Stone could easily cover Bilbo’s palm, but it never hurt him and sometimes, he was prepared to swear that he could feel contentment that was not his own thrum through him.

But, amidst the lessons (the spells, reading, and writing in the flowing script that decorated the mantel), Bilbo gladly worked on their farm, taking care of the animals and taken care of the crops so they would have a high yield.

But then his mother returned to the earth, like his father, and he was alone.

And then the men came to take him away.

*~*~*

One of the men, a Colonel Smaug, kept a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder as they entered the luxury airship, the first of many people waiting to get on.

His grip so tight Bilbo was sure that he would find a bruise there later, his rough cotton shirt and green vest doing little to keep Smaug’s nails from digging in as well.

They walked quickly through the hallway and Colonel Smaug pushed Bilbo through first before he stepped through, eyes darting around before he made Bilbo sit down away from both the window and door while two men kept their guard up.

“Once were on route to the fortress, you’ll be free to move about Bilbo,” Smaug stated, but Bilbo had long learned Smaug wouldn’t explain how he knew Bilbo’s name.

“Why am I here?” Bilbo asked as he toed off the shoes Smaug had given him, feeling uncomfortable with them on his feet.

“For your protection of course,” Smaug answered with a patronizing smile before he looked away from Bilbo and Bilbo’s hands tightened in his lap.

“Protection from what?” Bilbo demanded.

Smaug turned to him and smiled, gently patting Bilbo’s face in that same patronizing manner as the smile. “Let the adults worry about them, hmm? It wouldn’t do for you to have nightmares,” he stated and Bilbo felt his temper rise slightly as Smaug carefully hooked a finger around the metal and pulled the Glow-Stone out of its hiding spot.

“And I’ll hold onto this for now,” Smaug stated as he pulled the necklace up and over Bilbo’s head.

“Give that back!” Bilbo demanded as he jumped for it, only to be held back by one of the other guards.

“Now, Bilbo, don’t worry about it. I am just holding for safe keeping, just like you’ve been brought with us for your safety,” Smaug stated and Bilbo shook his head.

“I was safe where I was! I want to go home, please!” Bilbo begged softly, but Smaug merely ran his hand through Bilbo’s curls, as if that would comfort Bilbo.

It did anything but.

“Bilbo, there are very dangerous people out in the world looking for you. We’re only trying to keep you safe,” Smaug stated as he pocketed Bilbo’s necklace and turned from Bilbo.

He began talking with one of his men, and Bilbo hunched over, knowing he’d never get to the window in time.

Besides, he needed to get his Glow-Stone back.

*~*~*

Bilbo had moved to the window the moment he was allowed to move and stared out the window.

Lunch passed with him ignoring the food one of Smaug’s men brought over to him, despite how hungry he was.

He had been captured before his breakfast, and he was hungry, but he refused to take food from his kidnappers.

By the time night fell, his stomach was twisted in knots over the hungry, but he turned pointedly away from the food. This time, the man tried to press, when Smaug cut in with a simple, “If he doesn’t want to eat, then let him starve. He will have to eat sooner or later.”

The man shrugged and Bilbo focused on the clouds outside, only to find figures riding winged things flying toward the ship. He gasped and pulled back slightly as he saw the man glance at him, drawing the other five men with him to the window.

And then they were rushing away, and out of sight while Smaug and his men cleared the table quickly to use it and other pieces of furniture, such as their chairs, and shoved them out into the hallway.

“See Bilbo? Protection,” Smaug stated and then focused on following the men out, locking the door behind him.

Bilbo tensed at the sound and yelped as he felt the entire airship shake before he heard the sounds of gunfire outside his door. He stood up and pulled away further from the door when Smaug returned.

“Get down on the floor,” he ordered before he knelt down in front of the transmitter, tapping out Morse code and thoroughly ignoring Bilbo.

Bilbo glanced to the side and noticed the green bottle the men had been drinking from on the floor. He slowly knelt down, eyes on Smaug the entire time as he picked it silently up. Once grasped in his hand like how he held the wood chopping ax, he hesitated only a moment before he brought it crashing down on Smaug’s head.

The man groaned as he collapsed and Bilbo immediately knelt down, digging through Smaug’s pockets as shouts came from outside the door.

“Don’t just stand there, break it down!” a deep voice rumbled and Bilbo pulled his necklace out of Smaug’s pocket, hanging it around his neck before he rushed to the window.

He quickly unlocked it and slid the window open before swinging out, clinging desperately to the side of the airship as he slid his way across, trembling.

“There he is Uncle!” a voice exclaimed and Bilbo let out a sound of surprise as he looked back to find a dark haired man leaning out the window, dressed in a deep red aerial suit with a brooding man behind him dressed in dark blue.

“What are you waiting for, get him! He has the stone!” the larger man ordered and Bilbo picked up speed, nearly slipping to his death twice, getting out of the range of the stubble faced man.

He still reached for Bilbo and Bilbo let out a choked sound of fear when the man began to fall, only for the larger man to catch him.

“Whoa! Don’t let go Uncle!” the stubble faced man begged and Bilbo focused on getting to the window of the next room.

His relief of being almost safe was short-lived, however, as he watched a blond haired man with a braided moustache dressed like the brunette burst through the door of his possible safe haven. Bilbo let out a cry of fear as the man ran to the window and fell into darkness, a scream ripping itself unbidden from his lips.

*~*~*

“Working late again Bofur?” Bombur asked worriedly as he ladled the food for the mine boss, Glóin, into the container Bofur always ran with.

“Yeah. I’m fine though Bom,” Bofur answered simply and lifted up the container, waving at Bombur, before he was running off and down the road to the mine.

Bombur was a good sort, if overly protective of Bofur. Older brother or not, he should just focus on feeding his family.

If the miners came up without any silver, or tin, once more, the mines around the area might all be tapped out and everyone would have to move. The mines which had served this town for generations for miners was…

Bofur was pulled out of his thoughts by a bright white light cutting through the air.

He paused to stare before he realized that at the center of the bright white glow, was a person.

He immediately took off, slipping slightly down the embankment to the large pulley system that ran the mine cart lift. He rushed to the edge and shifted to catch the person, a boy who was probably a bit younger than Bofur himself, before he remembered the container of Glóin’s food and set it safely back before he reached out again to catch  the boy.

He stared in wide-eyed amazement at the way the stone on the metal necklace seemed to cover the boy and the way the sheer power of it seemed to create a breeze around him, ruffling the boy’s golden curls.

As the boy landed more securely in Bofur’s arms, floating above them still, Bofur watched the glow begin to die.

And the weightlessness of the boy in his arms stopped shortly after the glow died.

Bofur let out a grunt of surprise at the heaviness of the boy and, with gritted teeth, began to lift him up before he walked backwards, settling him on the platform.

The boy remained unconscious the entire time. “Bofur, what are you doing up there?” Glóin shouted and Bofur let out a surprised sound, having completely forgotten why he was there in the first place.

“Boss, this boy, he fell from the sky!” Bofur shouted back, only for his words to get lost as the machine that powered the mine shaft elevator began to let out steam that it should not be letting out.

He began to hurry to the ladder down before he rushed back to get Glóin’s dinner and headed back down. “Boss, really, there was this boy and he fell out of the sky!” Bofur tried again, but Glóin was distracted by pressing matters before his eyes, such as the boiler trying to give out on him.

“I just fixed this thing!” Glóin grumbled as he climbed up to the spot that was spewing steam.

“Bofur, turn off that second valve!” Glóin ordered and Bofur called up a, “Yes, sir, Boss,” before he rushed to do that.

He slid on the heavy duty gloves that were too big for him and worked on closing it before he replaced the gloves to their spot next to Glóin’s soup container.

“Get me that big wrench,” Glóin ordered and Bofur ran to do so, pausing when the alarm bell signaling that the miners were ready to come up rang.

“I can’t move. You’ll have to bring ‘em up. Just remember to keep a steady hand on the controls and keep your eyes flickering between the big wheel and the elevator shaft. We don’t need any accidents today,” Glóin stated and Bofur grinned.

“Yes, sir, Boss,” Bofur answered and tossed the wrench up to Glóin before he ran to the controls.

He started it up easily enough, but as his eyes went to the wheel, both to help monitor the speed as well as to stop the lift should the wheel seem to become loose for any reason when his eyes fell on the still prone form boy.

His feet were bare, which struck Bilbo as odd, but maybe…

“Bofur, hit the break!”

Bofur immediately focused back and slid the lift to a screeching halt, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of the miners well and good. The inspector, Óin, came to look over the rocks brought up, even as the miners seemed to just hunch over slightly.

“Nothing,” one of them muttered, “not even a bit of tin.”

“Maybe we should try the eastern veins,” another muttered.

“Too many unstable shafts,” one protested.

“Besides, those were mined out years ago,” the fourth miner stated while the fifth just looked on, exhaustion lining all their faces.

“Well, we’ll have to start again tomorrow. Let’s call it a night,” Óin stated as he set the rock down he was inspecting down.

The miners nodded and pushed the cart away to join the rest of the dumped rocks and Bofur turned to Glóin to ask about the boy, only to see him scrubbing a hand through his hair as he released the steam from the boiler.

“Shut it all down for me, will you Bofur?” Glóin asked.

“Yeah,” Bofur answered and watched as they walked off, Glóin turning off the light as he went before he followed after his older brother.

“Another mine goes this way, and we’ll be out of business,” Glóin muttered as they walked off into the dark and Bofur sighed.

Before he set about getting to work, he spared a glance up to the mysterious boy, wondering who he was and why he had fallen from the sky.

Was he from the Shire, the floating island his father had snapped a picture of, or…

He shook his head as he bent back over his work.

There would be time enough to ask when the boy woke up, but in the meantime, what should he do with him?

The boy couldn’t stay here, and Bofur paused in his oiling of the lift operating machine.

There was no rule saying that he couldn’t take the boy back to his own home on the outskirts of the village and just take precautions to not scare him.

Bofur smiled and focused back on his work.

Sleeping on the floor would hardly be the worst thing to happen to him.

*~*~*

Bilbo woke to the sound a trumpet playing above his head and he winced as the sunlight cut through his eyelids. He shifted and blinked before it struck him that he was _alive_. He jerked up into a sitting position and looked around the unfamiliar surroundings, before his curiosity overtook him and he slid out of bed, walking past a kettle on a small wood burning stove, before he began to climb up the ladder.

He let out a startled shout when white doves flew at his head and he ducked back down. “Hey, you’re up!” came a cheerful voice and Bilbo slowly pulled himself back up to find a black haired boy wearing a funny hat smiling at him.

Bilbo smiled back and pulled himself up onto the roof. He stood up and the other boy smiled at him. “Want to feed them?” he asked and Bilbo nodded eagerly, wondering how his own animals back home were doing.

He laughed as the doves began to fly about him, landing on his shoulders, head, and arms, fluttering about for their meal. “Well, at least you laugh like a normal person, that’s something,” the strange hat wearing boy stated and Bilbo looked with a confused sound escaping his throat.

“I was starting to think you were a living star or something of the like, the way you floated down from the sky,” the boy explained.

“Floated?” Bilbo asked as the doves continued to flutter about and the boy tossed more bread down on roof before he crossed to Bilbo.

“Yeah. I’m Bofur, by the way,” he stated.

“I’m Bilbo,” Bilbo responded before he stared at the doves.

“Do you have any idea how you did that?” Bofur asked and Bilbo shook his head.

“The last thing I remember is falling from an airship,” Bilbo responded and Bofur hummed before he stared at the necklace in a way that made Bilbo feel slightly uncomfortable.

“Can I borrow your necklace for a moment?” Bofur asked and Bilbo almost hesitated before he reached back and undid the catch, something he rarely did, and held it out to Bofur, who hesitated to touch it now as the metal gleamed in the sun.

Bofur frowned at the necklace before he asked Bilbo to hold the trumpet. Bilbo did so and resisted the urge to laugh at the way he couldn’t get the necklace to catch. “Here, let me help,” he stated and carefully hooked it back closed, locking it into place.

“Wish me luck,” Bofur stated and then jumped over the edge of his roof.

Bilbo let out a strangled sound and rushed to the edge of the roof to find a hole had been made in the bricks. “Bofur…are you all right?” Bilbo called down, cutting himself off from calling him stupid.

What sort-of…

“I’m all right,” he called and Bilbo looked around before he found a stairway down.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” Bilbo called as he rushed down and, once on the ground floor, as it were, found Bofur holding onto the edge of the self-made hole, nearly out.

Only to fall back down when he tried to pull himself out.

“Oh,” Bilbo cried out and rushed to the edge to discover that it led to a cellar and that the ‘floor’ was just a brick roof of sorts to cover the cellar.

“Are you still all right?” Bilbo asked.

“Fine,” Bofur groaned out.

Bilbo was about to retort when he felt more bricks giving way under his feet. He tried to scramble back, only to find himself falling in as well. He let out a startled sound and crashed into something slightly softer than rock.

“Oh, Bofur, are you all right? Why did you do that?” Bilbo demanded as he scrambled off of Bofur, who was groaning lowly.

“Still good. And seemed like the thing to do,” Bofur answered cheerfully, smiling at Bilbo.

“Don’t! You can’t afford to have your head smacked around anymore,” Bilbo retorted.

“Did you just imply that I was thick?” Bofur asked.

“What else am I supposed to think?” Bilbo asked before he flushed and ducked his head slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he offered and Bofur reached out to ruffle Bilbo’s curls.

“It is okay. You fell off an airship yesterday. I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to snap when people scare you,” Bofur offered before he removed his hat, and then Bilbo’s necklace, before he slid it over Bilbo’s head.

“I thought the stone would keep me from crashing, to be honest, but I guess that’s not it,” Bofur stated and Bilbo shrugged a bit before he took Bofur’s hat and tugged it back onto his head.

“Well, next time, don’t jump off any buildings, all right?” Bilbo asked, as he tucked his Glow-Stone back under his shirt.

“All right,” Bofur agreed before he suddenly sat up in surprise.

“The kettle is still on the stove!” Bofur exclaimed before he took off to the upstairs and Bilbo soon followed.

“You can wash up over there. There’s a clean towel,” Bofur called and Bilbo gave his thanks, heading to the wash basin when he was distracted by a picture.

He turned to it and let out a startled sound of the picture of an island floating in the sky, half covered by clouds.

 _The Shire_.

*~*~*

Bofur never thought he would tell anyone else about his reasoning behind his desire to find the floating island, the Shire, beyond his own brother.

His and Bom’s father had been called a liar, despite the picture he had taken, and that being called a liar was what killed him, despite what people said.

Bilbo had listened, as few did, his eyes taking in the picture that hung on the wall, before he looked at Bofur.

And then the rumble of a motor car came down the road, and Bilbo looked so scared.

Bofur didn’t have any other choice but to grab Bilbo’s hand, tug him up to his room, throw clothes at him so he could change, tucking all his hair under a flat cap, and then grab his hand.

And run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this will be expanded.
> 
> But it is at the bottom of the list.
> 
> Also, up next, is Hospital.
> 
> *cackles evilly*


	27. Hospital (Teen, Bilbo/Oin, Human AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo came to visit Óin on the doctor's lunch break every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
> 
> Everyone knew they were together, despite them being so very discreet about it.
> 
> And then one day, Bilbo didn't come in.
> 
> (Age Difference of 30ish Years, Cancer, Probably Inaccurate Cancer Treatment Mention)

The staff of Blue Mountain Hospital were used to seeing Bilbo Baggins come in every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for no other reason than to speak with Dr. Gróinson, though practically everyone called him Dr. Óin.

Bilbo usually brought him a lunch and _always_ had time to talk with everyone on duty.

Yes, everyone at Blue Mountain Hospital loved and adored Bilbo Baggins, from the motherly, seemingly all-knowing Head of Psychiatry, Galadriel Silverwood, to the gruff, short-tempered ‘experimental treatment’ doctor, Thorin Oakenshield, though he tried not to show it.

And, despite how discreet they were, everyone knew that Bilbo Baggins and Dr. Óin were together.

At first, they had shifted nervously, as Bilbo was in his late twenties while Dr. Óin was in his late fifties, but over time they stopped being so nervous about the age difference and began to, secretly, coo over how adorable it was.

Well, for the most part.

A few still seemed rather out of sorts about it, but they could pretend, since Bilbo and Dr. Óin never did anything in public where they could be ‘found out.’

So they all noticed the day Bilbo did not come in at his usual time.

And Dr. Óin refused to given an explanation, instead just seeming to fall under a heavier weight as he continued his work.

*~*~*

Óin had known something was wrong the moment Bilbo had gotten a fever for no reason. He had tried to push for Bilbo to go to the doctor’s then, but Bilbo had waved it off and pulled Óin in for a kiss, and sent him to work.

But then the nosebleeds came and the fatigue, and Óin dragged his soon-to-be-husband down to the hospital (and it had taken _ages_ for his brother to accept that they loved each other and he wasn’t going to lose Bilbo just as they had finally gotten Óin’s family to accept them), only to wish he hadn’t.

Bilbo was diagnosed with Acute myelogenous leukemia, and Óin felt the color leech away from the world.

Treatment options were discussed, and Óin already knew that Bilbo was going to be undergoing the most aggressive treatment.

He would be in the hospital later that week.

“Shh, love, shh,” Bilbo whispered that night as Óin buried his face into Bilbo’s neck, never mind that he was starting to lose his hearing in that ear.

But Óin heard him, and he held onto his Bilbo for all that it was worth.

*~*~*

“Bilbo is going through chemo,” Óin finally admitted after a week of no Bilbo Visits.

The obnoxiously large card was presented to Óin the very next day.

Everyone had signed it, even Thorin’s nephews, one of which was in their burn ward after setting their kitchen on fire.

*~*~*

Bilbo loved it, his hair already falling out in clumps from the chemo, and asked after Kíli. “He’ll live and not even have a scar to show for it,” Óin responded grumpily.

They did not touch, but Bilbo smiled as if he weren’t lying in a hospital bed, but instead back at home with a bad cold.

Óin wished it was a bad cold.

But he knew wishing would do nothing, and instead focused on telling Bilbo how, exactly, Kíli set fire to the kitchen.

They still did not touch.

*~*~*

Blue Mountain Hospital was a different place without Bilbo thrice-weekly visits.

Balin, head of administration, had already set up another round of card giving.

Óin grumbled about the size of the cards, but took them.

*~*~*

Bilbo adored them, even though he passed out a few minutes into Óin’s visit.

Óin didn’t mind.

He did mind when Bilbo caught a cold as winter rushed at them.

*~*~*

The staff of the Blue Mountain Hospital waited eagerly for good news.

It was sparse, bits and pieces that Óin was sure to tell. The days he came in as if the entire world was pressed down on his shoulders told him Bilbo had taken a turn for the worse.

The day he practically skipped in, one year later, it was to the news that Bilbo was coming home.

*~*~*

He’s far thinner than before, and paler, and instead of blond hair that sweeps down nearly over his eyes, he wears a knit hat made by Dr. Dori of pediatrics. His eyes are bright, if sunken in slightly, and they are far more careful with him than they were before.

He and Óin are far less discreet now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My grandmother is a breast cancer survivor, but due to her age, they did not give her chemo.
> 
> Bilbo was kept in the hospital for the entirety of his treatment and a great deal of his recovery due to the fact his immune system was not functioning.
> 
> Also, had I not given Bilbo cancer, he would have died. However, as cancer is a touchy subject for me (both my maternal grandparents are cancer survivors actually), I cannot have a fictional character die from it. It feels like jinxing it for my family.


	28. Orphanage (High Gen Low Teen, No Pairings, Human AU, Child AU, Adorable Babu Bilbo AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond Peredhel ran Rivendell Orphanage with his wife to give orphaned children a warm, loving, and stable environment as they could provide.
> 
> He just never thought the son of their best friend, Belladonna, would be one of those children.
> 
> (Death, House fire, Burns, Abandonment Issues)
> 
> (Author Refuses to Actually Write Honest Real Life Way This Would Play Out Because Author Wanted Happy Ending)

Elrond Peredhel was standing on the porch, waiting for Celebrían to return from picking up Bilbo Baggins, the six year old son of their friend, for the Rivendell Orphanage, an orphanage his wife and himself ran to combat their empty nest syndrome and to give orphaned children a warm, loving, and stable environment.

He had just never thought he would have to open the orphanage doors to a best friend’s son.

He watched as the van parked and Celebrían got out quickly before she just opened the sliding door on the driver’s side and reached in. When she fully pulled into his sight, she was holding a six year old, curly haired, Bilbo Baggins in her arms.

Bilbo Baggins, who looked so fragile in Celebrían’s arms, looking more like a four year old than a six year old with burn scars that curled around his legs made Elrond wish he could turn back time, somehow prevent this all from happening.

But Bilbo’s relations had abandoned him.

They had turned away a boy who had just lost everything that he could call his own, and it took all of Elrond’s self-control not to go pull a Glorfindel and go break something off site.

He smiled as Celebrían carried Bilbo up the steps and Elrond saw the way Bilbo was just keeping himself from sobbing. “Welcome to Rivendell, Bilbo,” Elrond greeted and Bilbo broke down into tears.

*~*~*

Getting Bilbo settled had been both exceptionally easy and emotionally draining.

When Celebrían had first started to carry Bilbo up the stairs, Bilbo had immediately started shaking and so they had turned off and gone to the overflow room, as it were. It was the room that usually held the children the local police needed them to hold overnight, as Rivendell Orphanage was the safest place for any child to be who had gotten separated from their parents either from somehow wandering fifty miles in the dark in the heart of summer or from kidnapping.

But it was the only room on the ground floor ready for children to inhabit and Celebrían resisted the urge to just carry Bilbo around everywhere with her.

He had always been tiny, and he somehow seemed so much _smaller_ now.

But, no matter.

Within a few months, Celebrían was sure that Bilbo would be as bright and fun-loving as he was before the fire.

*~*~*

Elrond sighed as he watched Bilbo disappear from behind Ori as his older brother, Nori, hugged his little brother close.

As it turned out, the reason Ori was here was due to various legalities that needed to get smoothed over after his parents lost their right to him due to neglect.

Glorfindel left the property for a couple of hours after _that_ came to light.

When Ori turned to say good-bye, he seemed shocked to find the spot next to him empty of a small boy who had followed him diligently since finding him in the library a month ago.

Ori had only been slightly older than Bilbo and had earned Bilbo’s love and devotion right off, mostly because both preferred to hide with Erestor than to actually spend time with the rowdier children outside.

There was only so much Elrond could do to put a stop to the bullying, especially with newcomers, but turning them over to Glorfindel seemed to be a good way to end it.

“But…” Ori stated as Nori slowly lifted him into his arms.

“He…he was right here. How is he going to write me if he doesn’t have my address?” Ori asked.

“You could always write here, Ori,” Elrond spoke up gently and Ori stared at him.

Elrond smiled a bit. “I promise Bilbo will get it,” Elrond stated and Ori beamed before he buried himself into Nori’s embrace as Dori came running out to crush both of his brothers to him in a hug.

And then they were gone.

When Elrond went to find Bilbo, he discovered Glorfindel laying on the ground, looking under the porch.

When he heard Bilbo’s soft voice coming from the space, Elrond turned and focused on the five other children in his and Celebrían’s care.

Glorfindel had Bilbo.

*~*~*

A year passed, with Bilbo getting only an inch taller and gaining barely any weight. A trip to the doctor’s office brought about no reason for this slow growth to be, and so they just tried to do their best to ease up on the bullying.

Glorfindel was often seen with tiny Bilbo Baggins on one shoulder as he played whatever games with the children outside, something both Celebrían and Elrond were thankful over, for at least Bilbo was going outside, though Erestor seemed put out that Bilbo wasn’t with him in the library.

Yes, the staff of Rivendell Orphanage was quite smitten with Bilbo (it helped that they remembered the pudgy baby who drooled on them all, and the three year old who had messily braided Glorfindel’s hair, but none of them were elidgible to adopt Bilbo by the court standards, and matters were only more muddled by Bilbo’s rather vast inheirtence just waiting for the day he would turn 18 and the trust fund would start to pay out to him), but they wanted to see him out as well.

Especially when eyes passed over him of perspective parents, and interviews ended with the prospective parents shaking their heads, some wringing their hands nervously. “He’s just so small,” was the usual statement, leaving Bilbo to bury himself into Erestor’s lap, or Celebrían’s skirts, because Bilbo could hear everything.

He had found some hiding spot that allowed him to hear everything and Elrond didn’t know where it was, but…

The worst times were when Bilbo hid under the porch.

It was too small for anyone else to wiggle under there, except possibly some of the younger children, but they were usually the ones Bilbo befriended.

And usually the ones adopted.

Like now, leaving Bilbo as the only child in Rivendell Orphanage (for now), and hiding under the porch while Glorfindel tried to coax Bilbo out.

“No one wants me,” Bilbo sobbed out.

“That’s not true. I want you. I would love to have you as my own,” Glorfindel answered softly, dirt staining his blond hair as he tried to wiggle into the crawlspace.

He failed, as he always did.

Never stopped him from trying though, including attempting to adopt Bilbo.

Twice.

He would probably attempt it a third time soon, but it didn’t matter.

“You don’t count, like my…no one wants me. No one _picks_ me,” Bilbo sobbed back and Elrond sat on the porch steps silently as he listened to the smallest member of the Rivendell Family sob while the tallest tried to comfort him.

It would be dark before Glorfindel would stand, Bilbo cradled in his arms.

If Elrond could break every rule set down, he would in a heartbeat to see Bilbo adopted.

Instead he stood and headed inside.

*~*~*

Over the next month, their rooms filled back up and they were packed with children in need of homes.

Some were troublemakers who Elrond had to watch like a hawk, others were so quiet that Celebrían had to make sure they were really settling in.

In it all, Bilbo got shuffled to the side, to hide with Erestor, for even Glorfindel was busy with the new additions.

Erestor settled Bilbo on his lap before he pulled Bilbo close, snuggling with the small boy as the children raced around above their heads. “They’re louder than the last group,” Bilbo stated.

“They are,” Erestor agreed wearily.

Bilbo befriended the quietest, Bard, two days later.

Bard was adopted a month after and Bilbo was back under the porch.

*~*~*

Fíli and Kíli arrived at Rivendell Orphanage in a whirlwind of rambunctious laughter, even as they refused to be parted from each other, not that that would be a problem, considering that they would be residing in Bilbo’s room.

They had a guardian, at least, as they insisted their uncle would come and get them and the local police were already on the phone trying to _find_ said parent or guardian. The pair weren’t runaways, as they did want to get back to their parent, or ‘Uncle’ as it were, but they hadn’t been kidnapped either, so the police were scouring the missing children reports for any that matched Fíli and Kíli’s description as the name, Smith, was not helpful in any way.

When they were escorted to the room Kíli had pouted over the fact that the bottom bunk was taken, though he didn’t say anything out loud, but after lunch, with Bilbo most likely hiding where he couldn’t be found, despite everyone’s best efforts to make sure he didn’t skip meals, the bottom bunk had Kíli’s things instead of Bilbo’s, and Bilbo’s things were on the twin in the corner.

The brothers had grinned at the change and later, attempted to pounce on Bilbo when he had come in for bed.

And then they had all gone to bed.

*~*~*

Fíli and Kíli seemed to decide that Bilbo was their friend and that nothing anyone said or did was going to change their minds. They refused to be parted from Bilbo for more than a few minutes over the course of the next few days.

Then, one morning, Elrond got a call stating that the boys’ mother had been found and she would be there later that afternoon.

This time, Elrond warned Bilbo that his new friends would be leaving soon, as their mother had been found, contacted, and would be coming that afternoon shortly after telling the news to the two, very excited, brothers.

Bilbo immediately seemed to become smaller before he hugged himself. “They picked me. The only people in the world who picked me and they’re going,” Bilbo stated, trembling slightly.

“Bilbo,” Elrond consoled quietly, but Bilbo was already tearing away, probably to hide under the porch.

“Bilbo?” the brothers cried in unison, but when Bilbo ignored them, they ran after him.

*~*~*

“Fíli, Kíli!” a woman with black hair streaked with silver, called as she burst out of the car, dressed in a jeans and a handknit sweater while, a man who could be her twin, except with a beard, stepping out of the driver’s side, dressed in a three-piece suit.

Elrond immediately approached them. “They’re trying to coax their friend out from under the porch,” he explained and waved at them to follow him.

They followed him as he led them around back to where Kíli was trying to squirm into the entry way under the porch while Fíli talked over Kíli’s head and Glorfindel knelt behind them both.

“He’s squirmed a lot farther in this time Elrond,” Glorfindel stated and Elrond sighed.

“Of course he has,” Elrond murmured and sent Glorfindel to go get some tools to pry up part of the porch.

He would have to refurbish it sooner than planned, but Bilbo had to stop crawling under there.

Glorfindel frowned, but complied while Kíli tried to squirm more under. “Bilbo, please come out,” Kíli called and the man seemed to tense at the name while the woman cried, “Kíli, get out from under there!”

“Mama!” both boys shouted, Kíli letting out a sharp sound of pain as he smacked the back of his head, as they turned to run to her.

“Mama, Bilbo’s not comin’ out!” Kíli slurred while Fíli nodded in agreement.

The man frowned. “Bilbo Baggins?” the man asked.

“Yes Uncle Thorin,” Fíli answered while Kíli made mutters about how ‘Boggins’ sounded better.

Thorin immediately frowned and, much to Elrond’s surprise, got down into the dirt to peer into the hole under the porch. “Bilbo?” he called and there was a quiet shuffling sound.

“Mister Oakenshield?” Bilbo responded and Thorin hummed lowly.

“That’s right. I thought I asked you to call me Thorin, last time we saw each other,” Thorin answered, dirt grinding into his suit as he shifted to get more comfortable.

“They told me I’m not supposed to do that,” Bilbo responded softly and Thorin hummed again.

“I don’t care what they say. I would prefer you call me Thorin. Mister Oakenshield makes me feel old,” Thorin answered calmly.

“Kay.”

They stayed like that for a time, the brothers’ mother clinging to them while Thorin seemed to think about what to say. “I thought you were living with relatives,” Thorin stated.

Elrond tensed as Bilbo coughed and sniffed. “They didn’t want me. Nobody wants me. Nobody picks me. I just get shoved at them,” Bilbo answered and Elrond wondered if the child psychologist was helping or reaffirming the abandonment issues.

“Why wasn’t I called?” Thorin asked.

“Uncle Otho said you weren’t family, so there was no reason to call you. And my own family didn’t want me,” Bilbo answered and Thorin seemed to settle further into the dirt.

“Bilbo, I remember your parents’ will. I remember that it said you weren’t supposed to go to the Sackville-Baggins,” Thorin responded and Elrond immediately made a cutting motion at Glorfindel and gestured for him to get Erestor.

Glorfindel nodded and hurried around to the front of the house while Elrond slowly stood up, thankful that Arwen, her husband Aragorn, and his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, were here to help with the other children.

If Bilbo had gone to someone he shouldn’t have, then maybe they could find the guardian that was _supposed_ to have Bilbo. “They fought the will, but only on custody rights. I was said to be too young to have a say over who I wanted to stay with,” Bilbo answered.

“Then how did you end up here?” Thorin asked softly and there was a sound, a broken keening thing, and Kíli whimpered slightly in sympathy, trying to struggle out of his mother’s arms to get back to Bilbo.

Throin shifted and suddenly reached in. There was a startled sound and then Thorin was carefully pulling back until he had a little boy in one hand before he carefully pulled Bilbo to his chest. “Easy little one,” he murmured softly as Bilbo struggled a bit before sagging against Thorin’s chest.

“They fought the will and then they gave you up when they realized they couldn’t get your inheritance, didn’t they?” he murmured softly, even as he brushed cobwebs and dust from Bilbo’s hair.

Bilbo just coughed and buried himself into Thorin’s chest. “I should have known when suddenly everyone refused to see me or let me see you,” Thorin stated as he slowly stood up, still holding Bilbo close.

“Uncle?” Fíli called, while Kíli continued to whine and struggle to get to Bilbo while their mother stood up with one on each hip.

“Elrond, Erestor is livid and unable to form complete sentences. I think whatever he discovered when he called the lawyer connected to Bilbo broke his brain,” Glorfindel called from the back door and Thorin hummed softly at that while Bilbo sobbed into Thorin’s chest.

“Far over, the misty mountains cold, to dungeons deep, and caverns old,” Thorin began to sing lowly, causing the brothers, and Bilbo, to still, listening quietly, Kíli’s eyes drooping slightly after the first few words rumbled out of Thorin.

By the time the song was finished, Kíli dozing against his mother’s shoulder, Fíli was heavy eyed, and Bilbo was passed out in Thorin’s arms.

“Oh, so that’s why he couldn’t sleep sometimes,” Glorfindel stated and Thorin merely nodded before he turned.

“Let’s head inside,” Elrond stated and Thorin nodded, heading up the steps, his sister (or sister-in-law) following.

*~*~*

It didn’t take long for the ‘clarification’ to come through.

Thorin Oakenshield, who Bilbo had never mentioned (though Thorin seemed to lay the blame purely on the Sackville-Baggins in that regard), had been named guardian should not family member take him.

He had even been named Valarfather despite the fact he had not followed the teachings of Yavanna, as both of Bilbo’s parents had, but of Aule, and Elrond, who had kept a very neutral setting religious wise in the orphanage wise for reasons, knew that Glorfindel had very much been taking Bilbo under his wing with the teachings of Lorien and Spouse that Glorfindel followed.

It came with the territory of getting attached, and Elrond knew Glorfindel would be sad by the fact Bilbo would be leaving.

The lawyer had thought Thorin Oakenshield had waived his rights, or at least that was what he had been informed.

Thorin had a few choice words to grumble under his breath at that news, especially when the lawyer admitted that until Thorin had signed off his rights, he should have been informed the moment Bilbo’s guardians had given him up instead of being bounced through the court system to end up in Rivendell Orphanage.

“I will bet you anything he was paid off,” Erestor growled as his hands twitched in his lap.

“Most likely,” Glorfindel responded calmly as Thorin shifted Bilbo closer.

“It seems, Mr. Oakenshield, you’ll be adding another member to your family,” Elrond stated and Thorin smiled.

“Thank Aule,” he answered quietly, even as Glorfindel slumped against the door frame.

*~*~*

It took two days of paperwork and threats of sending lawyers after some people, and actual sending of lawyers after the Sackville-Baggins before Thorin could take Bilbo home.

Tiny little Bilbo who looked even smaller in Thorin’s arms, but happier than he had been in a long time, and who was asking if they could come visit. “Oh, I’m sure we can, quite easily,” Thorin answered.

“Oh?” Bilbo asked softly.

“We’re moving into town,” Thorin explained and Glorfindel perked up over that before smiling brightly.

*~*~*

It would be months before Glorfindel asked how Thorin knew Bilbo.

“I knew Bungo,” came Thorin’s answer and Celebrían grinned before she turned to Elrond.

“Pay up,” she demanded and Thorin coughed on his laughter as Bilbo ran about the yard with Fíli and Kíli trailing behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I keep being late with these.
> 
> But, tomorrow.....tomorrow is the last day.
> 
> *beings to sing 'One Day More'*
> 
> *coughs*
> 
> *blushes*
> 
> Sorry. Anyway, for Day 30, Firefly won, so that will be that.
> 
> That series will probably show up soon, after I play catch up with my other fics, and I have already changed some things, so there is that.
> 
> It will keep the races and Bilbo will still be their crazy little psychic.
> 
> Anyway, if you see any 30 (or 15 or 20 or 60 or any number really) Day Challenges you would like me to do, leave a link here and I'll see if I will.
> 
> Realize that any smutty ones will probably not happen.
> 
> Just saying.


	29. In a Band (Gen, Squintable Pairings, Human AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo Baggins followed Thorin's Company, a metal folk band, with avid interest because he loved their music (because he loved the people that were the closest thing he had to family after his parents died for a whole year). And just because he was an instrumental soloist, and occasionally singer, under the stage name of Sting didn't mean Gandalf could go setting him up to be a 'featuring artist' on one of the Company's...
> 
> Oh, wait.
> 
> Yes he could.
> 
> (Cliff Hanger End)

Thorin and Company was a metal-folk band that no one thought would actually succeed and instead did so in spades, much to the joy of their rather extensive fanbase.

While Thorin Durin, the lead singer and the leader of the band (as well as harp player), had been there from the beginning, time had shuffled the members.

Frerin Durin, Thorin’s brother, was replaced as lead guitar by their nephew Fíli Durin-Ered. Glóin Durin, a distant cousin to Thorin, had originally replaced his older brother Óin as drummer, only for Glóin to retire to be with his wife after the birth of his son, and replaced by Bofur Broad, a friend of the Durin Family, who also brought with him base guitar player, Nori Rhine. Nori Rhine often clashed with Dwalin Durin (who had replaced _his_ older brother, Balin), another distant cousin to Thorin, due to the fact Dwalin played a double bass. The original keyboardist, Dís, had been replaced by her youngest son, Kíli, eventually, but during her later pregnancy (Fíli had been born three years before Kíli and, subsequently, three years before they had gotten big, as it were), there had been guest keyboardists, and no tours till both boys were old enough to either come with them, or stay nicely at relatives homes.

The introduction of the new blood, as it were, had never harmed the band, instead making it flourish where others had faltered, strengthening around their newest line-up (Thorin, lead singer and harpist, Bofur as drummer, Nori as second bassist, Dwalin as first bassist, Fíli on guitar or viola, and Kíli on keyboard, or piano), and rising still.

Not to mention that during ‘off-seasons’ almost all of the ‘Company’ had gone off to do solo things, Thorin having numerous folk songs of just his voice and his harp, sometimes with piano accompaniment, not to mention various ‘featuring’ songs with other artists.

His nephews released many songs of their own, mainly instrumental, though occasionally with a ‘mysterious singer’ who most believed to be Nori Rhine, then others, who were not nearly as well known in their singles and solo albums.

Bilbo knew all of this.

Of course he did, because he had seen one of their first live gigs, in a small pub called _The Prancing Pony_ and he had gotten hooked on their music. After that, he had read newspaper articles that caught his eye, and bought everything each member made, because he liked the music, together and separate.

(Some days, he would admit their shared history, and the real reason he had followed Thorin’s Company so closely. That he would remember being the odd little ‘lad’ Frerin had dragged to the garage they practiced in, and him telling them how his boss was looking for performers for Thursday night. How Dís let him hold Fíli and the boy had stolen his glasses right off his face. About how everything was perfect in Bilbo’s life in a way it hadn’t been since his parents’ deaths, for one whole year. Of when it all came crashing down when they blamed him for the ‘missing song’ that got to a rival band, even as Bilbo swore that he didn’t steal it, had been ready to plead that he hadn’t touched their songs, but Thorin was glaring at him, and all he felt was coldness ripple off his friends, former on their end but not so on his, in waves. How he had tried to get the song back and how he had failed them, somehow, someway, to the point that they believed he would do as such, how he quit his job so he wouldn’t remember and hid in his music, churning out music under his stage name Sting.)

Bilbo, had he already not been in the music profession since he was thirteen (his talent with musical instruments encouraged by his parents equally with his desire to perform, touring during the summers instead of going to camp) he was sure that he would have started because of them, or tried at least.

Bilbo had, for years, played the piano, violin, and cello, in various concerts around the world and had even learned guitar during that brief period in his life when he was with a folk band.

It had been hard on his muscle memory, however, to play guitar comfortably as a profession (one of the reasons he had left the folk band, but not the big one) so he kept it for when he was going incognito, with his glasses and his frumpy clothes to play in the park.

(When he wasn’t Sting, but Bilbo Baggins, failure of a friend.)

Occasionally, he sang on his albums, and he ignored how those brought in a lot more people, keeping it to occasional.

He preferred playing and writing instrumental music, that was all.

(On the days he remembered the history between himself and Thorin’s Company, he would admit he did not like to sing, because it was Thorin who taught him the basics.)

Which was why he was very confused when his manager, Gandalf, said, without any warning at all, “By the way, you’ll be featured on Thorin’s Company newest album.”

Bilbo very nearly dropped his violin. “What?” he questioned.

“I didn’t tell you?” Gandalf asked in that way that suggested he had done it on purpose to keep Bilbo from mysteriously being unable to do it, as he had the past two times Gandalf had tried to schedule him as a feature with Thorin’s Company.

“No, you didn’t, you meddlesome old man,” Bilbo grit out, while wondering if it was too late to run.

“Ah, well. Luckily I have all your things packed for the plane trip tomorrow,” Gandalf answered.

“Of course you do,” Bilbo muttered lowly, even as he went to check the travelling cases to remove the strings from his instruments, only to find Gandalf already had, as well as produced new strings to attach once they got there.

“Please don’t be confrontational,” he pleaded.

Gandalf merely smiled and Bilbo hung his head in defeat.

It seemed his days of forgetting the past were behind him, and he really wished they weren’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost at the end my friends.
> 
> Day 30 is tomorrow.
> 
> Also, yes, this will be expanded as well.
> 
> (Finish things, put up Firefly Fusion, than this, yes, or no?)


	30. My (Readers') Choice (Firefly Fusion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo likes the way the world looks.
> 
> He just didn't like the path to get there.
> 
> (Vaguely Described Hobbit Experimentation, Altered Perception, PTSD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, the last of the AUs.
> 
> Sorta prequely thing to [this chapter](1775945). More explained in the End Notes.
> 
> This one-shot is heavily based off the episode of 'Shindig.'

Bilbo wandered into the kitchen, walking past where Glóin, Gandalf, Fíli, and Kíli were playing some sort of card game (fruits in rings with the numbers and Valar Beasts in boxes), cheerfully betting with their chores (the blunting of knives, and bending of forks, smashing bottles, burning corks, chipping the glasses, and cracking the plates).

Bilbo walked over to the box of supplies they hadn’t sorted yet and began to pick them up (to stop being such a burden on everyone; he wasn’t helping if he just wandered around the Valley), only to find the blue sun staring back at him.

He felt himself still (he was being strapped tight, despite his struggles, as the blue gloves held his face so they could strap it in) and then he was ripping the supplies out of the box.

“They take you…and keep you,” he whimpered out as he began to tear the labels from the cans (pain was searing into his brain, sharp and violently, cutting, cutting, cutting, as they kept close to him, blue gloves seeping through the dark).

He dumped out a box of wafers and began to smash the Blue Sun. “They’ll steal you away and lock you up and never let you go! They’ll hunt you down, to the edges of the ‘Verse,” he cried out (screaming, begging, for them to let him go, to close his mind back up, because it was all pouring in and it _hurts_ and he can’t move).

He can’t move and he began to struggle even as familiar arms wrapped around him, pulling him back, away from the counter as he tried to bite and kick. “Easy, Bilbo, easy,” a voice soothed, but he continued to fight the embrace.

(They are grabbing him and dragging him away and he can feel the screams from the other rooms rumbling under his skin and he fights, he fights, and he fails as he is pinned.)

A heartbeat is pounding under his ear, even though he’s held immobile in someone’s arms. It is new and unfamiliar and he begins whimpering and shaking. “No, please, please, let go, let go,” he begged quietly and the arms shifted slightly, but still held him immobile.

“Shh, Bilbo, it’s me,” Elrond soothed softly and Bilbo shuddered before he collapsed further into Elrond’s embrace.

“Make them go away,” Bilbo begged softly as he buried his face into Elrond’s chest, earning Elrond to shift his grip so he could run a hand through Bilbo’s hair, which only made him whine and shake his head.

(The hands of blue held him still, pulling at his hair, as they strapped him to the chair, and stuck needles in his skin.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably warn everyone that while writing this up for the series, I began to make a great deal of changes, but they didn't show up in this one shot.
> 
> This often happens during my rough drafts to final drafts for my fanfictions that I alter who I have where, especially in AUs, because AUs give me a great deal more wiggle room.
> 
> So...there is that.
> 
> But, we are here, at the end. It has been a lovely journey.
> 
> If you wish to see another 30 (or 10 or 15 or 20 or 50 or 60 or whatever) Day Challenge filled, leave the link in the comment section please and thank you.
> 
> (Also, sorry this is so short. And latish. It is before midnight!)

**Author's Note:**

> Um...I should probably let everyone know....I am going to be doing this a few times over, kind-of.
> 
> But...I might redo all of these on the same list with another Hobbit character and so on and so forth.
> 
> (On that note, send me a link to a 30 Day Challenge that you would like me to do, and I'll work on it after I finish this.)
> 
> I just...I like AUs and this allows me to think, and if I write something that inspires a series, why not right?
> 
> (I may just love writing so much that I can't stop.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Azanulbizar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067986) by [Moonrose91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91)




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